A Change in the Wind
by SarRansom
Summary: It's not Charles Hamilton's proposal that Scarlett accepts on the day of the barbecue at Twelve Oaks, unwittingly changing all their lives. A story of growth, survival and love in the shadow of a changing world.
1. Part I, Chapter I

_Anything recognizable belongs to the estate of the hugely talented M.M. I own nothing except this story line. _

_Updates will be weekly._

_Please consider this first chapter a short glimpse into Scarlett's life. Our story truly takes off in Chapter II._

* * *

**Part I**

**Chapter I**

_Scarlett O'Hara was not beautiful, but men seldom realized it when caught by her charm..._

... Charm however, was the furthest thing from her mind as the Tarleton twins made their farewells, on the afternoon of April 15th, 1861. She was glad to see the back of them both. Between their talk of the war they were sure was coming and of Ashley Wilkes marrying that insipid Melanie Hamilton, Scarlett couldn't care if she never saw Stu and Brent again. Never mind that she'd promised them all her waltzes at the Twelve Oaks barbecue and ball the next day, she'd simply find someone else to dance with!

War, war, war, war, war! Scarlett was sure she was heartily sick of the word. For weeks now, it had been the only thing gentleman talked of, the old men gathering with her father to shout of Fort Sumter and Abe Lincoln, while all her beaux rattled on endlessly about regiments and battalions and leaving university to join the Confederacy. Who could be bothered with war when there were balls and barbecues and fetes to attend, beaux to flirt with and dresses to be had?

"Fiddle dee dee!" Scarlett exclaimed to herself, kicking at the red soil at her feet, headless of the damage it caused to her small, ribbon-laced slippers.

Of course the talk of war wasn't what left her with a sick feeling in her stomach and an ache in her head. No, that was the thought of Ashley Wilkes, _her Ashley_, marrying that mealy mouthed Melanie Hamilton, truly, the thought of Ashley marrying anyone but her!

It had been two years since Scarlett had fallen in love with Ashley Wilkes. Funny really, that she had never found him so very attractive growing up. But his return from his three year Grand Tour had changed all that and, upon his calling on her family on his return, her life had changed forever. She had wanted him in that instant, wanted him as simply and unreasoningly as she wanted food to eat, horses to ride and a soft bed on which to lay herself.

For two years he had been at her side across the County, at balls, picnic, fish fries and court days, not the most regular of her beaux, to be sure, but constant enough. And still, every week Ashley would come calling at Tara and if that wasn't proof enough of their attachment, then Scarlett didn't know what was.

To be sure, he didn't make love to her the way her other young men did. His eyes never burnt with that deep, hot light she had long ago identified as passion, but surely that was out of his respect for her and her family! He remained aloof, always remote, though friendly and courteous, always!

Scarlett knew she would never understand him, he, with his run on about books and antiquity and philosophy, speaking so that she couldn't understand a word being said. Surely though, that one fault could be forgiven? Scarlett knew she would be quite content, as Mrs. Wilkes, to simply dimple prettily and smile demurely, while Ashley ran on about things she didn't understand.

Occasionally, she knew, he would catch her and know that she was bored by his words. But Ashley was a gentleman and when he caught her daydreaming he would simply smile, a little sadly and say –

"Forgive me, Scarlett! I forget how tiresome you must find my scholarly musings!"

"I could never find you tiresome Ashley," Scarlett would protest, though internally, she was rolling her eyes. Who wanted to speak of dead men's thoughts when there was gossip to be had?

After that Ashley would smile, and allow Scarlett to turn the conversation to the latest scuttlebutt of the County and they were both happy. Or so Scarlett thought.

And now she was to believe that he was to marry Melanie Hamilton? Melanie, who was as plain and boring as the day was long! Melanie, who was all graciousness and kindness, with never a cross word to say about servant, or child or the elderly! How insipid, how jejune! Scarlett couldn't, wouldn't stand to see Ashley married to that plain church mouse of a creature!

It couldn't be true, it simply couldn't! Scarlett would not allow it to be true!

Pa would know, Scarlett reassured herself. He'd spent all day with the Wilkes' and John Wilkes was as busy a body as existed in the County. Pa would know!

She hadn't long to wait, within minutes Gerald O'Hara was seen walking up the driveway, horse reigns in hand, his appearance ruffled enough to give him away, Scarlett knew he'd been galloping all the way home.

"Oh, Pa," she sighed, reaching up to assist him as he reached her. "Mother will take one look at you and know what you're about."

"See here Missy," Gerald pinched Scarlett's cheek fondly, as she fussed with his cravat. "Unless you'll be tattlin' on me, like your sister Suellen, your Mother won't know a thing!"

"You know I'm no tattletale Pa," Scarlett smoothed his ruffled feathers, slipping her hand through the crook of his elbow as his horse was led away. "Say, what news from the Wilkes'?"

"Cade Calvert was there, with the news from Atlanta..." Scarlett huffed and blew an errant hair from her face. "But I suppose you don't much care to hear about that, you'd rather hear about their preparations for tomorrow's barbecue I'm sure."

"Oh, yes please Pa!" Scarlett smiled prettily, earning herself another pinch on the cheek.

"Well Miss Melanie Hamilton and her brother Charles were there, all set for tomorrow you know?" Gerald began, noticing the angry blush that instantly transfused his daughters face. Nobody had ever accused Gerald of being quick, but he did know his daughter and he had long since grown tired of her infatuation with Ashley Wilkes. "Ashley's all set to announce his engagement to Miss Melly tomorrow at the barbecue."

"Oh Pa, stop!" Scarlett demanded, lower lip trembling. "I don't want to hear any more!"

There was little Gerald O'Hara hated more in the world than the sight of tears on a woman, particularly one of _his_ women, for despite his choleric exterior, Gerald had one of the softest heart's known to man. On this topic though, Gerald would remain firm, Ashley Wilkes _did not_ deserve the spot he held in his eldest daughter's heart.

"Now you listen hear Katie Scarlett O'Hara, none of these tears," he gruffly handed her his balled up handkerchief from the deepest recesses of his pocket. "Ashley Wilkes is _not_ the man for you."

"Oh, Pa!" Scarlett whimpered piteously. "Ashley's only a friend, a friend to us all!"

"Dribble drabble!" Gerald exclaimed. "I'm no fool Katie Scarlett. Has he been trifling with you? Has he asked you to marry him?"

"No," she said shortly, petulantly.

"I thought not," Gerald said triumphantly. "Nor will he. He's engaged to Miss Melly and that's that! And," Gerald paused here, pinching Scarlett's chin in his fingers and forcing her to meet his eyes. "Even if he were not, Ashley would not be the man for you. The Wilkes', they're queer folk, not in the County way you know. Don't tell me you can make heads nor tails when Ashley begins to prattle on about books and philosophy and art and the like!"

Scarlett remained mute, for hadn't she just been thinking that exact thing?

"Don't get me wrong Puss, I like Ashley just fine, I just don't want him for a son in law. You'd make each other miserable, as sure as my name's Gerald Clancy O'Hara! No Puss, Ashley and Miss Melly will suit each other just nicely, with never a cross word between them. There's too much Irish in you for you to be happy with a man like Ashley."

Scarlett's bottom lip quivered again and a single tear fell down her cheek.

"Come now Missy," Gerald fumbled again for his handkerchief. "You don't need Ashley. Why you've got all Tara! And one day soon, you'll find a man to marry you. And as long as he's a gentleman, a Southerner and prideful, my blessing you'll have!"

"Pa, you do run on!" Scarlett threw her head spiritedly, not one to ever let anything get her down for long.

"Who knows Missy, perhaps you'll be meeting him at the barbecue tomorrow. You'd best be hoping so, gentlemen will become pretty thin on the ground once the war breaks out!"

"Oh Pa, not the war again! Come into the house and change, its almost time for supper."

Gerald allowed his daughter to lead him inside, feeling pleased with himself for doing his job as a father. His work done, Gerald was looking forward to dinner with his family and eagerly anticipating the card games that were to be had at Twelve Oaks the following day.

Scarlett's thoughts were less agreeably engaged. Her father's words had struck an uncomfortable cord with her, reinforcing the reservations that had long since taken up residence in the back of her mind. As she entered the house to Mammy's reprimands of her walking out without a shawl, she resolved to think on it another time.

* * *

_Rhett makes his appearance next chapter and our story moves dramatically away from canon._

_Please consider leaving a review letting me know your thoughts. _


	2. Part I, Chapter II

**Chapter II**

_Scarlett loved Twelve Oaks even more than Tara... On the porch steps stood John Wilkes, silver-haired, erect, radiating the quiet charm and hospitality that was as warm and never failing as the sun of Georgia summer..._

... Gerald was off down the driveway before the carriage had stopped moving, greeting their ever-smiling hosts before moving in the direction of the card tables. Scarlett's eyes scanned the crowd for Ashley, but he was not on the porch. There were Stu and Brent Tarleton, Alex and Tony Fontaine, Dimity Munroe and the two Calvert boys, so many friends and beaux, but no Ashley.

Worst still, nobody seemed to have noticed the arrival of the party from Tara, and with Scarlett looking so fetching in a dress that really wasn't suitable for morning wear! A pretty scowl crossed her features. She'd fought Mammy tooth and nail to be allowed to wear the green muslin; she could barely breathe laced as tightly as she was! And now not a single one of her beaux was there to admire how well she looked. Scarlett could have stamped her feet in frustration.

Behind her, Scarlett heard Suellen preen and resisted the urge to slap her plain face. As it was, Scarlett couldn't hold back a role of her eyes, for approaching was Suellen's only beau, Frank Kennedy. Uncharitably, Scarlett thought she would rather have no beaux at all then have plain, fussy, old Frank Kennedy play court to her. To be sure, he owned more land than anybody in the County, but that couldn't make up for the fact he was forty, slight and skittish and forever perpetrated the nervous airs of an old maid.

Still, Scarlett grinned vindictively, as Frank paused on his way to the carriage, she would have the last laugh. For their was no doubt in her mind, in anybody's mind, that Frank was on his way to Suellen, but, with nobody to hand Scarlett down, he'd be forced to do the gentlemanly thing and attend the eldest O'Hara daughter first. Scarlett barely resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at her measly sister in malicious triumph.

Oh to be attended by Frank Kennedy though! Would the ignominy never end?

Scarlett silently resolved to be as courteous as she could. Mammy and Ellen had spent her entire life impressing upon her the behaviour expected of a lady, and though Scarlett had always attended and was, at the surface, every inch the young miss, nothing could overcome her Irish heart and naturally unladylike impulses.

So lost was she in her tenacity to be a lady, she missed the approach of a second gentleman, alongside Mr. Kennedy.

"Miss Scarlett?" Frank's nervous voice broke through her thoughts. "Please allow me to present Mr. Rhett Butler."

Scarlett's eyes snapped to the stranger beside Mr. Kennedy and she blushed, long and deep, immediately feeling that her dress was too low in the bosom. The stranger was staring at her in a coolly impertinent way that left embarrassment and feminine pleasure mingling in contrast in her mind. He looked quite old, thirty-five perhaps, he was a tall man, heavily built, bulky in the shoulders, but tapering to a small waist and absurdly small feet in varnished boots. She had never seen a man with such wide shoulders, so heavy with muscles, almost too heavy for gentility. He was dressed in the clothes of a dandy, a contrast to his body, which was powerful and latently dangerous in its lazy grace. He was dark of face, swarthy as a pirate, and his eyes were as bold and black as any pirate's. His hair was jet black, his black moustache small and closely clipped. He had an air of utter assurance and insolence about him, his every movement proclaiming that he was a man of lusty and unashamed appetites.

When her eye caught his, he smiled, showing animal-white teeth. There was a cool recklessness in his face and a cynical humor about his mouth and, as his smile widened, Scarlett caught her breath.

"Charmed I'm sure," she murmured, quite cross with the breathless quality to her voice.

"I'm sure," he responded sardonically.

Immediately, Scarlett felt cross, why, she was unsure. She was unused to being treated in such a way by a man and if she had met him anywhere else she would have thought him quite ill bred. There was an undeniable look of good blood in his dark face, outlined by his thin hawk nose, over full red lips, with forehead and wide-set eyes however and Scarlett told herself that no man that couldn't be trusted would be found at Twelve Oaks that day, all the while her every instinct screamed that this man was dangerous to her.

"May I, Miss O'Hara?" the man called Rhett Butler bowed low, almost mockingly so, before extending his hand to assist her descent from the carriage. He grinned at her then and his gaze went over her in a look blatantly devoid of the deference she was accustomed to.

"He looks as if he knows what I look like without my shimmy!" Scarlett thought to herself, resisting the urge to tug on the neckline of her gown. Still, she wasn't Katie Scarlett O'Hara for nothing and, with a toss of her head, extended her gloved hand to this dangerous stranger, allowing him to hand her out of the carriage and wrap her arm about his elbow to lead her up the front porch steps.

"Well done," he murmured to her with a wry grin. "For a moment there, I thought you were going to throw me off and jump from that carriage yourself.

"Oh!" Scarlett exclaimed. Hateful man! Secretly though, she delighted at his teasing. How unusual to not be deferred to by a man! How utterly perplexing.

"Oh?" He echoed, with raised brows. "Have you anything to add Miss O'Hara?"

"What brings you to Clayton County Mr. Butler?" She asked, smiling saccharinely while internally gnashing her teeth.

"Bah! A swift deferral," he grinned at her again, leaving Scarlett to blush deeply, far more deeply than was becoming. "Business, as you're so eager to know Miss O'Hara. I've arranged to buy some cotton from your friend Mr. Kennedy."

"Indeed?" She queried absentmindedly, her eyes searching for Ashley as they entered the foyer of the great house.

"Do at least try to attend Miss O'Hara," his dark voice admonished her laughingly. "Shall I better hold your attention if I ask after your beaux? Though they all seem to be lacking, leaving you to my attentions for all this time."

"Why you... how dare... Mr. Butler you _are_ rude!" Scarlett spluttered, though he spoke nothing but the truth, for not a single one of the young bucks that normally danced attendance upon her was to be seen at that moment.

"Undoubtedly so, my dear," he grinned sardonically; his eyes sweeping her body again in a gaze that made her skin break out in gooseflesh.

"Miss Scarlett," a soft, melodic voice called her name.

Scarlett turned and found herself face to face with Charles Hamilton. He was a nice looking boy with a riot of soft brown curls on his white forehead and eyes as deep brown, as clean and gentle as a collie dog's. He was well turned out in the most fashionable of gentlemen's garments and blushing profusely, as he was shy with girls. He was Melanie Hamilton's brother, but, in that moment Scarlett could have forgiven him anything; he was exactly what Scarlett needed in order to escape the insufferable Mr. Rhett Butler.

"Why Charles Hamilton, you handsome old thing, you! I'll bet you came all the way down here from Atlanta just to break my poor heart!"

Rhett Butler laughed aloud at the look on poor Charlie Hamilton's face. It was obvious to the much-experienced Rhett Butler that Charles Hamilton was quite overwhelmed by the suddenly vivacious, flirting Miss Scarlett O'Hara.

"Why... Miss Scarlett... I..."

"Now, you wait right here till I come back, for I want to eat barbecue with you. And don't you run off with any other girl or I'll be mighty jealous!"

"I won't," he managed, his heart beating wildly as she tapped her fan on his arm, fluttered her lashes at him and made for the staircase.

The sound of Rhett Butler's mocking laugh followed her all the way up the stairs.

In the bedroom where the wrappers were laid, Cathleen Calvert and the Munroe girls lay waiting to besiege her.

"Darling, what where you doing with that nasty Butler man?" Cathleen exclaimed, taking her hands and pulling her further into the bedroom. "Don't you _know?"_

"Why, of course I know," Scarlett tossed her head impertinently, though truly, she had no idea what Cathleen was speaking of.

"Scarlett, your father will be fit to be tied," Sally whispered, pressing Scarlett's hand in her own. "You're lucky he didn't see you!"

"Pa couldn't care a whist about idle gossip," Scarlett leaned forward to pinch her cheeks in the mirror, now really curious as to the scandal surrounding the man she'd just met. "And I've agreed to eat barbecue with him this afternoon, and you'll see, Pa won't have a word to say about it."

It was a lie, but now that her curiosity was engaged, Scarlett would not be denied. Surely it would not be difficult to convince that rogue to eat with her. Her promise from only moments before of eating with Charles Hamilton was completely forgotten.

"Scarlett you are daring!" Dimity sighed, plucking at the sleeves of her sunshine yellow gown in an attempt to expose more of her arms. "And no matter what he might have done in Charleston, you must admit, he's ever so handsome."

"Those shoulders," Cathleen tittered.

"That waist," Sally sighed.

"That mouth!" Scarlett exclaimed.

Sally, Dimity and Cathleen exchanged significant glances.

"Oh Scarlett, you're not really to eat barbecue with him are you?" Cathleen asked. "It's sure to be the scandal of the year if you do."

"Fiddle dee dee!" Scarlett cried. "You watch me eat barbecue with him Cathleen Calvert."

"Don't argue with her Cathy," Sally advised. "If Scarlett's determined to have this Butler man for herself, at least the County boys might have eyes for us!"

"Oh girls," Scarlett giggled, secretly pleased and feeling unusually charitable. "You just tell me who you want and I'll be sending them right your way, never fear!"

* * *

It was with all the determination of Caesar marching on the Spaniards that Scarlett made her way to eat barbecue that afternoon. Unlike her arrival at Twelve Oaks, her beaux had swarmed in order to position themselves to eat with her and with the practiced ease of a long time flirt, Scarlett managed to deflect them all.

"Oh Brent," she'd whispered, fluttering her fan and batting her eyelashes coquettishly. "You know I'd simply adore to sit with you above all things, but my poor baby sister... be a dear and eat with her won't you?"

It pained Scarlett to watch her beaux so easily defect from her, even as the eyes of her sister and the other County girls lit up as the gentlemen paid court to them. And all at her suggestion!

The one man whose attention she truly wanted hadn't so much as looked her way. Ashley spent his time with Melanie, sitting at a stool by her feet, talking quietly with her and smiling Scarlett's favorite smile. Beyond greetings, they'd exchanged nary a word, oddly enough though, Scarlett seemed to have forgotten him, consumed as she was by her goal to eat barbecue with the handsome and scandalous Rhett Butler.

The barbecue had reached its peak and the warm air was full of laughter and talk, the click of silver on porcelain and the rich heavy smells of roasting meats and gravies. Most of the young ladies (many thanks to Scarlett) were seated with partners on the long benches that faced the laid out tables. Scarlett was not amongst them. Instead, like a general marching into battle, she searched for the Charlstonian devil and wondered how best to get him to play along to her will.

Not quite oblivious to the longing gazes being sent her way, Scarlett's determined gaze swept around the gathered Southerners in search of the one she had decided to favor. And there he was, leaning casually against a tree, one leg propped behind him on the stump, arms crossed across his broad chest as he spoke with Mr. Coomes from Fayetteville.

Determinedly, Scarlett made for him. His eyes were on her, she knew, dancing in a way that mocked her every step, but she could not back down now. Not when she knew that Cathleen and Sally and Dimity and all her beaux were watching. And not before she learnt of the scandal that made him such a _persona non grata._

"Why there you are Mr. Butler," she flashed him her most dazzling smile from beneath bonnet and fluttering lashes. "I've not forgotten your promise to eat barbecue with me you know. I'll be quite bereft should you abandon me."

"Shall you my dear?" He asked laconically. "How remiss of me to... forget."

He was mocking her, Scarlett knew, but was powerless to stop it. She'd gone too far now to back down and so instead she threaded her hand through the crook of his elbow, and begged the pardon of the poor, confused Mr. Coomes.

"You're a conniving little minx, aren't you?" Rhett laughed shortly, taking control from Scarlett and steering her towards a little bench, set slightly apart from the crowds and gesturing for a servant to bring them plates. "Used to managing men and girls right and left? Well I'll tell you Madame O'Hara, I'm one man you can't manage."

"How you do run on, Mr. Butler," Scarlett simpered, smiling up at him like he'd delighted her beyond words, aware of the audience they'd garnered. "I so wanted to eat barbecue with you."

"And how admirably you managed to disperse your beaux!" He exclaimed, hand over heart. "You're like a little general, or a Chess Master moving his pawns. You're rather used to everything falling your way aren't you? What I wouldn't give to see you the day you're denied something you want. I should see quite the temper tantrum I'd wager!"

"Ooh, I don't know what you are!" Scarlett exclaimed, losing control of her temper for a moment.

Rhett grinned, white teeth gleaming against tan skin.

"What's a man to think Miss O'Hara?" He clasped his hand to his breast as if wounded. "Earlier you could hardly get away from me fast enough, now you've abandoned poor Mr. Hamilton and left him to his none-too-happy intended."

Scarlett glanced over where Charles and Honey Wilkes sat eating, exchanging scarcely a word between them, neither looking happy at the prospect of a lifetime spent together.

"Come Miss O'Hara and tell the bad man the truth, what have I done to pique your interest of a sudden?"

His expression was wide and invited confidence, his eyes snapping with sincerity and a healthy dose of devilry.

"Cathleen Calvert said... she said I shouldn't be seen with you, she thought I didn't know of well..." Scarlett peeked at her lunch companion from beneath her lashes. "The scandal surrounding you. So I said of course I did and I should eat barbecue with you anyway."

"And do you know?" Rhett raised his brows at her questioningly. "Have you heard from Charleston all the gossip about the big, bad Rhett Butler?"

"Well, no actually," Scarlett admitted, smiling broadly when Rhett roared with laughter.

"Well then my dear Scarlett, let me tell you a story that most certainly isn't fit for your young ears. Do eat up though. I'm sure your Mammy admonished you not to eat more than a sliver in front of gentlemen, but I like a girl with a healthy appetite. There you go, have a biscuit with some gravy. Good girl!"

Scarlett giggled despite herself and, as she reached for a slice of meat, found herself drawn into the hypnotic eyes of a swarthy pirate-like man.

"Well it's as simple as the day is long my dear," Rhett told her easily. "I'm not received."

"Not really!" Scarlett exclaimed, her mouth hanging open, despite a lifetime of admonishments from Mammy not to do so. "What did you do?"

Rhett laughed heartily.

"Straight to the point I see. Well my dear, my faults are numerous, and I haven't the time nor the inclination to relate them all to you now. But, simply put, one afternoon, at the urging of my made-in-the-eyes-of-God father, I took a good girl from a neighboring family for a ride in my buggy. Somehow, she managed to lose her chaperone and then, calamity of calamities, the buggy crashed and the horse bolted. Well it was after dark by the time we returned home and her family and mine demanded I marry the silly nit. I refused and I was thrown out, never to be granted access to the hallowed parlors of Charleston society again."

"Oh," said Scarlett, her hopes dashed. She had been hoping for a much better story than that. Still, she could imagine the worst for the fool of a girl who tried to trap Rhett Butler into marriage. Had she had a baby? Been sent to live with elderly relatives? Been ruined forever? "What happened to the girl?"

"Nothing so dramatic as what you're hoping I'm sure," Rhett grinned at her disappointment. "She married my younger brother, Ross, when he wasn't man enough to stand against our father."

"Oh how awkward!" Scarlett exclaimed, hand at her throat.

"You would think so my dear, except for the fact that my father has refused my presence in their glorious abode since the day of the incident. I was cast out on my ear, left to make my own fortune with only the dollars in my pocket. And I've rather prospered truth be told."

"She sounds a ninny," Scarlett said aloud, before her brain could keep pace with her mouth. "I'm glad you didn't marry such a fool."

"Bravo Miss O'Hara!" Rhett lay aside his cutlery to applaud her. "I completely agree of course, though not many do. Tell me, have I not shocked you?"

"Oh Mr. Butler, it takes a lot more than that to shock me," Scarlett flirted shamelessly.

"That, my dearest Miss O'Hara, is a challenge no red-blooded man could deny."

Again the look, the one that left her feeling completely bare and shockingly overheated. Blood rushed to her face and Rhett grinned knowingly, almost as if he could hear her heart racing and the blood thrumming through her veins far too quickly.

The gentlemen of the party congregating on Scarlett's father and John Wilkes, all yelling over one another and scrambling to be heard saved Scarlett the necessity of a reply. Scarlett rolled her eyes as words such as 'Fort Sumter' and 'succession.' Now Pa had gone and done it, the party would be ruined with talk of nothing but war!

"You may go and join the gentlemen, Mr. Butler," Scarlett informed him coolly. "I know how men love to prattle on about such things and I believe that I shall be called to nap with the other ladies soon."

"I shall stay here. I believe my views are unwelcome to the gentlemen of your acquaintance," Rhett demurred.

"Oh?" Scarlett queried, her curiosity piqued.

"Those damned fools are so full of Southern pride that they don't see the facts," Rhett told her, a little bitterly. "They don't see that there isn't a cannon factory south of the Mason-Dixon Line or that we've barely an iron foundry in the South. We've not a single warship and the Yankee fleet could bottle up out harbors within a week, they'd starve us all to death with nary a bullet fired. The North is full of thousands of immigrants, ready to fight to the death for their new homeland. They've everything on their sides, numbers, factories, shipyards and mines. We've not a hope in hellfire."

"What are you trying to say?" Scarlett demanded, a little scandalized and a lot thrilled at these naughty words being spoken to her.

"My dear Scarlett I'm saying we'll be licked good and proper in a month. Two, if the ladies donate their jewels to the cause. Have I shocked you now?"

"Hardly, Mr. Butler," Scarlet tossed her head jauntily. "Though if what you say is true, why don't the other men see it that why?"

"Pride, my dear, that damned Southern pride that blinds them to all but their conviction that the South shall never fall," Rhett sighed heavily. "Run along Miss O'Hara, I believe it's time for your nap." The sardonic smile was back now.

"Shall I see you later?" Scarlet asked, unwilling to part from quite the most interesting, and infuriating person she could ever remember meeting.

"Undoubtedly so," Rhett moved to his feet with a cat-like grace that Scarlett couldn't help but envy. "But for now, my dear, excuse me. I believe I best make myself scarce before I find myself unable to quell my mouth and at the barrel end of a group of enraged Rebels. Good day to you."

* * *

_I'd love to hear your thoughts so far, please consider leaving a review._


	3. Part I, Chapter III

**Chapter III **

_Afternoon naps were a custom of the country and never were they so necessary as on the all-day parties, beginning early in the morning and culminating in a ball. For half an hour, the girls would chatter and laugh and then the servants would pull the shutters and in the warm half-gloom the talk would die to whispers and finally expire in silence broken only by soft regular breathing..._

... Scarlett had been the centre of attention in that half an hour, as all the girls demanded to know every word Mr. Rhett Butler, formerly of Charleston, had said to her. Eventually, the talk die die down and the girls settled in for a siesta. Scarlett had somehow found herself sleeping beside Melanie Hamilton, of all creatures. To Scarlett's consternation, Melanie was the sweetest, most complimentary of creatures that Scarlett had ever come across and she was hard pressed to hate her. Funny, that only a day or two before she would have found it easy.

It was later, as sleep evaded her that Scarlett's mind finally came around to Ashley. With a start, she realized she'd hardly spared him a thought all day, consumed as she'd been with the handsome stranger, Rhett Butler. She had still not thought of her father's words from the day before, though they had been silently festering in her mind from the moment they'd been uttered. Gerald had laid before her every imperfection, every doubt that had ever nagged her, every fact that, had she been more capable of introspection, would have long since led to the realization that Ashley was not the man for her.

Oh, she couldn't stand it! She'd loved Ashley for years and that was that! And she had to tell him, now, today, before he announced his engagement to Melanie, just in case... _just in case..._

What Scarlett was hoping for as she crept down the Twelve Oaks staircase some minutes later she wasn't sure. But as she saw Ashley slip into the Library, it was the easiest thing in the world to slip in after him and close the door behind her with a resounding click.

"Scarlett!" He exclaimed, coming forward to take her hands and draw her into the room. "Why aren't you upstairs napping with the other girls?"

"I... I have something to tell you," she whispered, damning the uncertainty in her voice. Oh, what was she doing?

"Well go on then," Ashley smiled, still standing at attention in front of her. Scarlett's mind unwittingly flew to the casual, relaxed elegance of Rhett Butler, and how handsome he had looked reclined against a tree.

"What is it Scarlett?" Ashley asked, when she did not speak. "A secret to tell me?"

"Yes... yes, a secret," Scarlett heard her voice as if it were very far away, hardly knowing the words that were slipping from her lips. "I... I think... Oh Ashley, I think I love you!"

The words were out now, hovering in the air between them, leaving Scarlett wish she could snatch them back and leave them forever unspoken.

"Isn't it enough that you've collected every other man's heart here today?" He said, his eyes averted, none of the usual teasing, lilting tone in his voice. "Do you want to make it unanimous? Well, you've always had my heart, you know. You cut your teeth on it."

"I've... I've loved you for years... you know?" Scarlett gushed without thought, only wanting to make this moment right some how. "And I..."

"You must not say these things Scarlett!" Ashley exclaimed, striding away from her, his hands raking through his usually well-groomed hair. "You mustn't! You don't mean them. You'll hate yourself for saying them and you'll hate me for hearing them. And I couldn't bear for you to hate me, my dearest friend."

Friend. The word echoed in Scarlett's head. Never before had a man called her his friend before. She suddenly felt vaguely ill.

"Don't... don't you care about me?" She demanded.

"Oh yes Scarlett, I care," Ashley replied sadly. "I care a great deal. And a great deal more than I ought."

"But..." Scarlett's head was spinning, the words coming out of Ashley's mouth made no sense to her. "But you don't want to marry me?"

"I thought you knew. I thought everybody knew. I'm going to marry Melanie, it's to be announced tonight," he replied.

"It's true?" Scarlett gasped, her hand flying to her throat as he head spun. Ashley was by her side in a moment, leading her to a low velvet chair, settling himself on the hassock at her feet, pressing her hands firmly in his own. "But... you just said you cared for me?"

A look of pain crossed Ashley's features. "I ought not have said it."

"Is it true?"

"How could I not care for you, dearest Scarlett? You, who have all the passion for life that I have not. You, who has grown into a fiery, spirited young woman, the companion of my childhood years! Yes, I care for you Scarlett, but it is not enough."

"But... I think I love you..."

"Oh Scarlett, please!" He moaned. "Don't say such things. Surely you must know that a marriage between us could never work. Not between two people as different as we. You would want all of a man Scarlett, his body, his heart, his soul, his thoughts. And if you don't have them you would be miserable. And I couldn't give you all of me, I couldn't give all of me to anyone. And Scarlett, I don't want all of you either. I can't be entrusted with your most sacred of elements."

"My virtue?" She whispered, her cheeks flaming at saying such a thing aloud.

"You mind and thoughts and soul, dear girl," Ashley corrected gently. "If we were to marry you would grow to hate me in time, resent me for all I have taken and all I had refused to give. And I could never stand for you to hate me, my dearest Scarlett."

"And Melanie... she is like you?"

"We are the same Scarlett," Ashley replied. "She is a part of my blood, and we understand each other. I believe we shall make each other happy."

"But I couldn't make you happy," Scarlett agreed resignedly, her lower lip trembling dramatically, tears moistening her sooty lashes, making her the most beautiful and tempting picture a man could ever see.

"Oh Scarlett!" A second later she was gathered in Ashley's arms, pressed against his chest, something she had always dreamt of. And yet... something about his small, scholars frame didn't feel right to her.

"I thought you were going to marry me," she cried, flushing with embarrassment and sheer mortification. Oh that she had listened to Mammy and Ellen's admonishments and kept her mouth closed! Anything to spare herself the agony of having exposed herself to ridicule and the sure knowledge she now had, that Ashley could never, would never love her. Gerald was right; they were far too different to ever make a marriage work.

Oh, the agony of crushed hopes and scattered dreams! Her future lay before her now, a blank book waiting to be filled and she knew not the words to fill it with, nor in which direction to begin looking for them.

"Be fair Scarlett," Ashley begged. "Did I ever..."

"No," she gasped, anger filling her, anger at herself, for her own willful blindness and stupidity. "And I was too foolish to see it. I thought when we rode together, when you came calling, every week without fail... oh what a fool you are Scarlett O'Hara!"

"Not a fool Scarlett," Ashley said gently. "Never a fool. Hate me, please. Call me a cad for leading you on and for toying with your emotions, but please, don't blame yourself dear one!"

A small part of her was angry with Ashley. For surely he could have made his intentions better known, played less the part of the lover and more the part of the family friend. To be sure, some of the agony she suffered now was his fault! But it was too hard to blame him, and much, much easier to blame herself.

Oh, she couldn't look at him! Not with the grey eyes she'd dreamt of looking at her so earnestly, so full of shame and sorrow.

"Ashley, I think you'd best get back to the party," she told him, in a voice full of steel, as she summoned what was left of her courage to banish her tears and draw herself to her feet. She wouldn't let him see her cry.

"Scarlett," he'd flinched at her words, her tone and the look of determination in her eyes. "Please, let us part as friends."

"For friends we shall always be," she replied, rather cynically, she continued on, unable to resist taking one last jab at the man who'd exposed her to adult life, adult decisions and the sincere pain of the real world. "Very well, Ashley, I wish you well. I truly hope you shall be satisfied with your decision."

"You must know that I wish you well, Scarlett," Ashley replied, pressing her hands again, far too tightly for comfort. "I would see you settled with a man like you. One who could give you all of himself and gladly accept all of you in return. That is my dearest wish for you my dear, only for your happiness."

"Goodbye Ashley," she turned away from the door, unwilling to watch him go.

At the sound of the door clicking shut behind her, Scarlett's frayed temper snapped. She muffled a shriek, then stamped her feet in the manner of a small child until not even that would give vent to her feelings of frustration with her own foolishness. Her hand dropped to the little table beside her, fingering a tiny china rose-bowl on which two china cherubs smirked. She picked up the bowl and hurled it viciously across the room toward the fireplace. It barely cleared the tall back of the sofa and splintered with a little crash against the marble mantelpiece.

"This," said a voice from the depths of the sofa. "Is too much."

Never had Scarlett been so startled, so absolutely afraid in her life as she was in that moment. She gasped, and caught hold of the back of her chair, her knees going weak under her, as Rhett Butler rose from the sofa where he had been lying and made her a bow of exaggerated politeness.

"Is it not enough that you have interrupted my nap, Miss O'Hara? Now you feel the need to endanger my life as well?"

Scarlett sank backwards into the chair, all her courage failing her. Lord Above! He had heard everything! She rallied enough to say –

"Sir, you should have made your presence known."

"Indeed?" His white teeth gleamed and his bold eyes laughed at her. "I believe, Miss O'Hara, that I was here first, thoughtful as I was, to remove myself from the barbecue as I believe I indicated to you that I would. Besides, had I revealed myself I would have missed the touching scene I was just privileged enough to overhear."

"Oh you...you - " Scarlett could not think of a bad enough name to call him. She drew herself up to her full height. "You, sir, are no gentleman!"

It was the ultimate of insults, and had she said it to Ashley, or one of the Tarleton's, or any other man of her acquaintance he would have been mortally offended. Rhett, however, laughed airily.

"An apt observation," he replied. "And you Miss, are no lady. No one can remain a lady after saying and doing what I have just overheard. However, never fear! Ladies have seldom held any charms for me. I know what they are thinking, but they never have the courage to saw what they think and that, in time, becomes a bore. But you, my dear Miss O'Hara, are a girl of rare spirit, a very admirable spirit, and should I be wearing my hat, I would take it off to you."

"Oh, how can you say such a thing?" Scarlett cried.

"Quite easily my dear," Rhett laughed again. "Until you've lost your reputation, you never realize what a burden it was or what freedom truly is."

"You talk scandalously!"

"Scandalously, and truly," Rhett bowed mockingly. "Tell me dear Scarlett, does it truly matter to you what others say about you? What the belles whisper about behind their fans and what the matrons cluck their tongues at?"

"Well... I, I..."

"Don't dodge my question, answer me now,"

"Oh, if you're going to pin me down - no! But a girl is supposed to mind."

"Take it from someone who long since gave up on listening to societies edicts," he leaned forward conspiratorially. "You're much better off, and you'll have much more fun, without them."

"Oh!" Scarlett gasped, blushing again, his penetrating gaze really did leave a girl with the most uncomfortable feeling of being undressed.

"Being a gentlemen truly isn't all it's cracked up to be my dear," he told her, moving rather closer. "And, as I think you'll soon find out, neither is being a lady."

Scarlett's flush felt as if it ran the whole length of her body now and, had she cared to look, she would have seen her hands were shaking. She couldn't meet the dangerous, snapping eyes of the man now before her, and, for the first time in her life, she knew exactly how it was that women could fall victim to the charms of man.

'Yee-ayy-ee!" The shout ran out from below them, from the great lawn where the crowds still gathered and was quickly echoed by a dozen other voices, all raised in the same cry.

"Oh, what is going on?" Scarlett gasped, seizing any means for escape.

She fled the Library, startling as she saw the girls pouring down the staircase from the upstairs bedrooms. She flew to a window, watching as horse after horse tore up the grass that was India Wilkes pride, the unknown battle call still crying out.

"What is going on?" She wondered aloud again.

"Miss Scarlett... Miss Scarlett!" She turned at the sound of a voice calling her name. It was Charles Hamilton, hurrying towards her, his hair tussled and his face near carmine with excitement.

"Whatever is going on?" She queried aloud.

"Mr. Lincoln has called for men, soldiers - I mean, volunteers – seventy five thousand of them! It's war Miss O'Hara!"

War! War again, would she never hear the end of it?

"I can't decide now whether to go with Mr. Wade Hampton's South Carolina Legion or with the Atlanta Gate City Guard." He rambled on. "It will mean fighting... of course - "

"Mr. Hamilton," Scarlett interrupted sharply, looking out the window and seeing Honey Wilkes on the lawn, searching for someone, Charles most likely. Oh what a perfect opportunity to get him to let her alone! "Mr. Hamilton, Honey's searching for you – look!"

A look of confusion came across young Charles Hamilton's face. Honey? What had she to do with anything?

"Miss Scarlett," he stated again, unusually brave. "Would... would you wait for me?"

Scarlett looked up, wide-eyed, startled. God's nightgown! She'd barely spoken a word to this man in her life, and one smile that morning had him asking for her hand! How on Earth was she to absolve herself of this situation?

"I'm afraid, Mr. Hamilton," a swarthy, low voice came from directly behind Scarlett, causing her to jump. "That that will be quite impossible."

Rhett! Scarlett could have jumped for joy in that moment, or thrown her arms about his neck to thank him for coming to her rescue, as improper as it was.

"I believe I asked Miss O'Hara, sir," Charles Hamilton pulled himself up to his full height, a look of bulldog like determination crossing his handsome features as he stood up to a man so many years his senior.

"Yes, you did," Rhett stepped forward, positioning his body so it was angled to cover Scarlett, as if protecting her from Charles' gaze. "But you see sir, as Miss O'Hara has just done me the honor of agreeing to marry me, I believe I shall speak for her when I tell you that she is quite unable to wait for you." Then, in a movement that seemed as natural as breathing, he clasped her hand in his and brought it to his mouth, bestowing on it the most tender of kisses, then smirking into her hand as he felt her pulse race accordingly.

Scarlett couldn't breathe, couldn't move. Marry him? Marry Rhett Butler, the man that was so much a scoundrel that he wasn't received? But, he'd never asked! What was going on?

"Oh," the look of utter devastation that crossed Charles Hamilton's face would have torn at Scarlett's heartstrings, had she not been so confused.

"Mr. Hamilton," Rhett called the young pup back as he went to walk away. "Miss Honey Wilkes is looking for you, you wouldn't want to disappoint her, would you?"

"Honey," Charles breathed, light coming back into his eyes. "No, I wouldn't want to disappoint Honey..." he scuttled off, leaving Rhett and Scarlett quite alone.

The entire house party had scattered to the lawns now, the house was entirely deserted. Had Scarlett been more cognizant of the situation she was in, she may just have been afraid.

Instead, she sank to the bench seat set into the window, her hand at her throat, her feet quite unable to support her any longer.

"Come now Scarlett, don't be missish," Rhett grinned, taking hold of her hand and yanking her to her feet again. "I expect better of you, my dear,"

"I... you," Scarlett stuttered, quite unequal to speech. "You never asked me to marry you!"

"Quite right, my dear, how remiss of me," Rhett grinned sardonically. "It was rather useful in being rid of the young Mr. Hamilton though."

"Well, yes, thank you for that," Scarlett said begrudgingly. "But, Lord above Rhett Butler! What if Charles tells somebody? I'll be ruined!"

"Haven't I just told you my dear, that being a gentleman, or in your case, a lady, is vastly overrated?" He shrugged nonchalantly. "Besides dear Scarlett, your point is moot, as I absolutely intend to marry you."

Scarlett gasped, sinking to the window bench again, before Rhett tugged her to her feet once more.

"Why, what a cruel joke to play on little old me, Rhett Butler," the words fell from her lips, ingrained through years of flirting.

"It's no joke and you know it, so you can drop that Southern belle simper, it won't work on me," Rhett grinned darkly, reaching out and pulling her against his body. "Besides, now my honor is engaged so really, neither of us have a choice. We'll have to marry."

"You don't have any honor," spat Scarlett, incensed by his presumption.

"No indeed, I don't. But you still do, my dear, or so you seem to think. And I'd rather wager your family does as well."

"Ooh!" Scarlett huffed, all but stamping her feet in frustration with his obstinacy. "You're a cad Rhett Butler, to try and use my family against me like that to trap me into marrying you!"

"Trap you?" Rhett raised a hand to his breast as if her words had wounded him. "My dear Scarlett, nothing could be further from the truth. My dear, you ought to be begging me to marry you."

He was kissing her now and his mustache tickled her mouth. Kissing her with slow, hot lips that were so leisurely, as though he had the whole day before him. She had never been kissed like this. Never had the kisses of the Tarleton and Calvert boys made her go hot and cold and shaky like his kiss did. He bent her body backwards over his arm, as his lips travelled down her throat, then back up again. His arms were about her waist and shoulders and she felt the hard muscles of his thighs against her body, the buttons of his coat pressing into her breast. A wave tide of warm feeling, bewildering and frightening, swept over her, carrying out of mind the time and place and circumstance. She was limp as a ragdoll in his arms, and the feeling of being held up by him was shockingly pleasant.

"Come Scarlett, say you'll marry me. Marry me just for the fun of it. I'll whisk you away to Paris and there'll be balls and parties every night. I'll shower you with jewels and gowns and lace stockings so fine you can see through them. And I'll never stop making love to you, I'll flirt with you when we're old and gray, in our dotage."

His arms were around her again then, he bent her back against his arm kissing her with an intensity that made her cling to him as the only solid thing in a dizzy, swaying world. His insistent mouth parted her lips, sending wild tremors along her nerves, evoking from her sensations she had never known she was capable of feeling. And before a swimming giddiness spun her round and round, she was kissing him back.

"Stop – please, I'm faint," she whispered, prying open her eyes. His were wide and blazing queerly and the tremor in his arms was frightening to her.

"I want to make you faint, I will make you faint... this is what you were made for!" He whispered harshly. His eyes were so close that they seemed enormous, filling her entire world. "Say yes! Say yes Scarlett!"

She whispered 'yes' before she had even thought, as if he had willed the word and she had spoken it without her own volition. Some small part of her mind told her that her life had just changed forever, but she couldn't bring herself to care, not so long as he kept kissing her.

He pulled away then, though she remained in his arms, her legs too weak to support her weight.

"You mean it?" He demanded, his voice hoarse, his dark eyes almost shockingly bright. "You really mean it?"

"I mean it Rhett," she whispered, resting her head against his chest and thrilling at the too-quick thrumming of his heart. She looked up then, and was shocked by the appearance of the first look of honest pleasure she had ever seen on his face. Her already racing heart quickened again.

"Well come then Scarlett, my dear," he pressed a lingering kiss on her hand, before tucking it about the crook of his elbow. "We'd best go and meet with your father."

* * *

_I told you we'd be leaving cannon behind this chapter. Still with me?_

_Please let me know your thoughts in a review._

_More next week. _


	4. Part I, Chapter IV

_Please forgive any grammar, spelling etc., errors. I've got a horrible flu and the idea of proof reading this to my normal standard made my head spin. _

* * *

**Chapter IV**

_In after years when she thought of those last days of April 1861, Scarlett could never quite remember details..._

... If pressed, Rhett would later admit that he remembered every detail of every one of the days leading up to their marriage. He would forever remember his first entrance to Tara, when he had arrived as mistrusted stranger and left as cherished son-in-law to be.

He had sat in the driveway to Tara, just out of sight of the great house, desperately trying to talk himself out of what he was about to do. He had decided many years ago that he was not a marrying man, that he should never marry, never shackle himself to any one woman, for he had never seen the need. Women came to him easy enough, whether through desire or pecuniary reward and he could hardly imagine spending the rest of his life in only one bed.

If he could achieve it with any woman though, it would be with Scarlett O'Hara. He'd never met a woman so fiercely passionate, so completely irreverent, so utterly _like_ him. And her response to his kisses... Rhett groaned and shifted uncomfortably from his place atop his frisky, black stallion. Her response to her kisses left him with no doubt that he would be very comfortable remaining in her bed for the remainder of his days.

She was beautiful, utterly beguiling and the most enchanting bit, to Rhett at least, was that she knew it. She had none of the innocence that he had long since come to expect of Southern belles and he had meant it when he had said she was not a lady. Her true nature was hidden behind a carefully placed mask of ladylike deportment and he couldn't wait to strip her bare of it, and unveil the bold woman who was awaiting him underneath.

He hadn't intended to propose, not truly. He'd hardly had time to decide his attentions since that faithful meeting in the Library. But she had been so distraught, so utterly mortified, that he had been afraid that she might just accept poor Charlie Hamilton out of spite, and so she had forced his hand.

The business with Ashley Wilkes was somewhat disturbing, but didn't bother him overly so. For he did not believe that Scarlett loved him, not truly, and, if her response to him in the window seat at Twelve Oaks proved anything to him, it was that he would have no trouble turning her head in the direction of her husband, particularly once they were let alone.

Marriage to Scarlett O'Hara truly was a promising prospect.

Smirking at the thought, Rhett nudged his mount forward, brining into full view the great house, Tara.

Dismounting and throwing his reigns to a waiting stable lad, Rhett strode to the front door of the great house and awaited admittance. To his surprise, Ellen O'Hara, who he had only briefly been introduced to the day before, awaited his entrance.

"Hello, Mr. Butler, welcome to Tara," she intoned softly.

"Thank you Mrs. O'Hara," Rhett bowed smartly, and resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably. Mrs. O'Hara reminded him of his own mother, despite the fact that he imagined himself to be of an age with her. There was no doubt in his mind that Ellen O'Hara was a very great lady indeed and he wondered wryly how she could have borne a daughter such as Scarlett.

"Mr. O'Hara is upstairs in his study, please come this way," she indicated gently, her tone leaving no clue as to her true thoughts about his presence there that day. Surely Mr. O'Hara had informed his wife of the nature of their guests visit, Rhett guessed it was only years of practice and generations of good breeding the kept her from displaying her true thoughts to him.

"Your mother is well, I hope?" She enquired, bringing Rhett up short; for surely she knew his reputation and that he had not seen his mother for nigh on two years now.

"I believe so, yes," Rhett replied courteously. "Excuse me, have you met my mother Mrs. O'Hara."

"Indeed I have, Mr. Butler. My sisters Eulalie and Pauline are rather close with her, as I'm sure you know and I have been introduced to her on my occasional visits to Charleston."

"Forgive me, I had not realized the connection," Rhett was left wondering how such a placid woman could be related to those two pea-hens Eulalie and Pauline.

"Please do remember me in your next letter to your mother Mr. Butler," Ellen requested. "Mr. O'Hara will see you now."

Gerald O'Hara was every inch the Southern gentleman as he ushered Rhett in, pouring good quality whisky and offering cheroots. It was not until they were seated beside an empty fireplace that the interrogation begun.

"So you're thinkin' of marrying my Katie Scarlett are you Mister Butler?" Gerald asked.

"I am, sir," Rhett responded, unruffled.

"And what makes you think you deserve her?"

"Why, nothing at all Mr. O'Hara. However, Miss O'Hara has accepted me, and I would hope you would honor her word."

"Hmph!" Gerald grumbled. "Girl don't know what's good for her any more than a sheep would."

"It is my belief Mr. O'Hara, that Scarlett and I are very alike in many ways. And I agree with you, Scarlett is not the best judge of what's good for her. But I could be, I intend to be."

"You do, do you?" Gerald harrumphed again. "And how do you intend to support my girl Mr. Butler? I've been askin' round you know, I know you ain't got no claim to your fathers property, and no honorable profession to speak of."

"I have investments in many ventures, Mr. O'Hara, Scarlett will be very well provided for as my wife. I am happy to lay these papers before you at your leisure. Also, sir," Rhett paused here; clearing his throat, for he knew what he was about to say would be unpopular. "I believe it would be wise for you to consider the upcoming war. It is my intention to take Scarlett to Paris for a wedding trip, where we may remain, at her leisure, for the foreseeable future. With the fighting coming..."

"Our Southern boys will have them Yankees licked within a week!" Gerald cried. "There ain't no need to leave the country over it!"

"Here, sir, I must respectfully disagree," Rhett said courteously. "The facts remain. Paris is our intended destination and, should the war... ah... stretch beyond your expectations, your eldest daughter shall be safely and comfortably ensconced away from Southern shores. Yourself, your wife and your other daughters would, of course, be welcome to join us at any time."

"You speak mighty prettily for a man who made his own fortune," Gerald sighed. "Very well, take her! My favorite Puss! You leave me quite bereft Butler!"

"I am indeed, in your debt sir," Rhett tossed back the last of his whisky, stubbed out his cheroot and stood. "With your permission sir, I should like to see Scarlett now."

"Go on with you!" Gerald cried, waving a lazy hand, shaking his head the violence of young lovers. "She'll be on the back porch, you mark my word!"

There, Rhett found her. Sitting on her own, pretty as a picture in a sky blue morning gown, the largest and most extravagant of bonnets perched jauntily on her head.

"Well, my dear," he said as he approached. "You are officially engaged. What say you to that?"

Indeed, Scarlett said nothing to that, for her lips were too agreeably occupied.

"Mr. Butler, I insist you stop! Why, someone might see us!" She cried, breaking free of his arms and looking around furtively.

"My dear, don't you know? Now that we are affianced, we may do whatever we please," his eyes darkening he pulled her back towards his body. "Well, almost whatever we please."

"Mr. Butler!" She exclaimed and he chuckled at her blush.

"Do call me Rhett again, dear one," he advised, pinching her cheek fondly. "Mr. Butler is so very formal it always make me look round for my father."

"My mother has never once in her life called my father 'Gerald,'" Scarlett insisted.

"Well I'd wager she has," Rhett grinned roguishly. "Most likely in the privacy of their chambers."

"Mr. Butler!" Scarlett exclaimed, her blush deepening.

"Do drop the coquette act Scarlett, there's a good girl. You've snagged me now, I've no need for your airs."

"Yesterday you told me you'd make love to me forever and flirt with me in our dotage," Scarlett pouted prettily.

"And so I shall, my dear, but truly, don't ever again all me Mr. Butler," Rhett absentmindedly wound his finger around a lock that had escaped her bonnet.

"Oh very well, _Rhett_," her tongue caressed the word, turning it into an endearment that sent his heart racing like a green schoolboy's. "Tell me, when shall we marry?"

"As soon as possible I think," Rhett replied to her surprise. "I've need to travel to Atlanta to settle some business, but immediately upon my return I should think. You needn't worry about a trousseau, aside from what you already have of course, for we'll see to it all on our wedding trip. I'd like to leave immediately after the wedding."

"Oh, Rhett, where shall we go?" Scarlett asked eagerly.

"I promised you Paris yesterday my dear, and to Paris we shall go... unless, you'd rather go to England or Scotland?"

"Oh, no! Let's go to Paris! Rhett you are wonderful!" She exclaimed, bestowing on him her most brilliant smile. "Let's get married as soon as we may, I cannot wait any longer than need be to make it to Paris!"

Accordingly, a month passed and then they were married. A day after Ashley Wilkes wed Melanie Hamilton and a full week after Charles Hamilton married Honey Wilkes. Both newly wed couples postponed their wedding trips in order to attend the wedding of Katie Scarlett O'Hara to Rhett Butler from Charleston. Following that, Ashley and Charles were to travel together to join the Troop when it was called into service, for both new brides had begged their grooms to join together, so that they might look after one another in Virginia. Wade Hampton's regiment was forgotten in favor of his bride's happiness and Charlie considered himself one of the luckiest men on the planet as he stood with his new wife on his arm.

Clad in Ellen's wedding gown and veil, Scarlett descended the grand staircase of Tara on her father's arm, barely seeing the house full of guests, the hundreds of burning candles and the garlands and garlands of flowers. Her mother prayed, her father boomed and Rhett smiled, not his usual, sardonic smile, but a softer one, gentler, that made his already handsome face all the more appealing. It was with very real pleasure that Scarlett declared 'I do.'

The newly weds left Tara shortly after the conclusion of the ceremony, for Rhett had declared that 'there was no way in Hell' he'd be spending his first night as a married man under the roof of his new father-in-law. To Atlanta they were to go then, and from Atlanta, Charleston, then Paris awaited.

**End Part I**

* * *

_I'm posting early, because it's my birthday tomorrow and waking up to your reviews tomorrow morning is a lovely birthday gift to myself. _

_Please remember to sign in when you review if you would like a response, I've had so many questions from guest reviewers that I have no way of answering._

_Part II is next – the honeymoon! _


	5. Part II, Chapter V

**Part II**

**Chapter V**

_Atlanta had always interested Scarlett more than any other town because when she was a child Gerald had told her that she and Atlanta were exactly the same age. She discovered when she grew older that Gerald had stretched the truth somewhat, as was his habit when a little stretching would improve a story; but Atlanta was only nine years older than her... of her own generation, crude with the crudities of youth and as headstrong and impetuous as herself..._

... Scarlett loved Atlanta as one of the few places she'd ever regularly visited and visiting it on her wedding day was perhaps the most exciting thing that she had ever experienced in her young life. She demanded congratulations from every person she met, from vague acquaintances on train platforms, to the bellboy of the National Hotel. Rhett had merely laughed, accepting her childlike enthusiasm without a second thought and flattering himself that, with another husband, she certainly would not have been as gay.

It was nightfall by the time they reached the hotel, and the newly married Mr. and Mrs. Butler were shown immediately and courteously to their room upon arrival. Scarlett was giddy with excitement upon viewing the Bridal Suite of the hotel. They were to rest there the night before departing for Charleston the next morning, where they were to meet their ship to France, some five days hence.

"Oh, Rhett!" She exclaimed upon viewing the ornately decorated room, fine furnishings and complimentary bottle of champagne awaiting them.

"I take it you approve, my dear?" He queried, indicating to the accompanying bellboy where their bags should be left and closing the door firmly behind his retreating frame.

"Rhett, I love it! Let's one day have a house and decorate it in exactly this style!"

"Oh Scarlett," Rhett shook his head ruefully. "I should hope, my dear, that with time, and exposure to the finer things in life, your tastes will improve. Come now and have a glass of champagne with me."

"Oh! But Rhett, I've already had one today, earlier, at Tara," Scarlett chewed her bottom lip, for she had long since been admonished by Mammy that ladies only ever drank one glass of champagne, only ever at a celebration and they never, never enjoyed it.

"That was hours ago, Scarlett. Now come, take it before it goes warm."

"Mother would be..."

"Most disappointed if she found out you were arguing with your husband, and on this, our wedding night! Come Scarlett, just this morning you swore before God and witnesses to honor and obey me, and to trust me to make the best decisions for you. And I've decided you're to have a glass of champagne to celebrate our marriage. Drink up, there's a good girl."

"Why I think you're tempting me to wickedness Rhett," Scarlett giggled, allowing the sweet, bubbly liquid to spill down her throat delightfully.

"Indeed I am Mrs. Butler, indeed I am," he grinned lazily at her. "And how shall you like to be so called? Mrs. Butler?"

"I shall like it very well indeed," Scarlett declared. "Mrs. Butler, Scarlett Butler, Mrs. Rhett Butler. Don't you think it sounds well?"

"Perfectly charming indeed," Rhett's expression bellied his casual words, for in truth, he liked the sound of her new name very much indeed. "And how do you like being married so far, my dear?"

"Rhett, it's been hours!"

"More than enough time for you to make up your mind about it, I'm sure."

"Well, so far, I like it very much. Oh Rhett, don't you think I looked far better in my wedding things than either Melanie or Honey?"

"Certainly my dear, though it does you very little credit to say as much."

"Oh hush," she bid him. "We're certainly a handsome picture together, as everybody said. What beautiful, dark haired babies we shall have..."

"Babies, Mrs. Butler? Who has been putting such thoughts in your head?" Rhett grinned lazily, his eyes flashing dark with desire.

Scarlett flushed, deeply. Turning her attention to the light repast her husband had ordered and nibbling delicately on a chunk of cheese, she remarked instead on the fine lace curtains over hanging the balcony.

"Come now Mrs. Butler, don't be missish, who has been speaking of babies to you?"

"Oh everybody," Scarlett replied airily, evasively, waving her hand as if to bat away his embarrassing question. "Certainly the matrons bring it up often enough."

He crossed the room then, bodily lifting her out of her chair and pressing her small body against his much harder one.

"And what did your mother warn you of... regarding your marital duties?" He questioned, sweeping her hair back over her shoulder and peppering feather light kisses down her neck. "Did she tell you your selfish, beastly husband would come to you to slake his desires and take his pleasures, and you must lie still and endure it, for in the end you'd get a baby out of it?"

Scarlett couldn't answer, partly because his kisses left her head spinning and partly out of sheer mortification, for his words were shockingly close to Ellen's advice to her the night before.

"I hate to disillusion you as to your mother's wisdom my darling, but in this instance, she was very, very wrong," Rhett told her darkly, his voice as smooth and silky as cats fur. "There is nothing to endure, in fact, if I do my duty as your husband correctly, you should take just as much enjoyment from this as me, perhaps even more."

Scarlett could hardly fathom it, could hardly believe that there was anything more pleasurable than the feeling of his lips caressing her neck, his mustache lightly grazing her skin. That there was more pleasure still to come seemed incredible and a small part of her feared that she could not take any more, for certainly her body was sure to catch fire if he continued...

"Oh Rhett," she sighed, allowing her body to go completely limp in his arms.

"Yes, my darling?" He replied, his voice low and husk, as his lips danced scandalously close to the décolletage of her dress.

She had nothing to say to him and even if she had, she couldn't speak, could hardly breathe, as his lips wrought havoc over her skin, leaving her writhing and helpless in his embrace.

She was in his arms then, her legs dangling over his arm, his lips never leaving hers as he strode towards the bedroom. He set her down then, beside the turned-down bed and, as his lithe, nimble fingers went to the buttons at the back of her gown...

Scarlett froze.

"Rhett..." her voice was uncertain now, nervous. His hands stilled, his lips withdrawing from her neck, leaving the skin he'd been kissing cold and bereft of his touch.

"Yes, my darling?" He murmured, the caressing tone of his voice causing her to shiver.

"I... I," she did not know what to say, knew nothing except that moments ago her head had been swimming with desire and passion and now, at the sight of a bed, her body felt as if it had been doused in cold water. "I've never done this before." She eventually settled for whispering, hating feeling inferior to him, even for a moment.

To her surprise and mortification, Rhett laughed. A great, booming laugh that spoke of his utter relief in hearing her words.

"I'm very glad to hear it, my dear. If you had, I'd be forced to divorce you."

"Oh hush!" Scarlett exclaimed, embarrassment causing her to lash out. Immediately Rhett's arms were around her again, soothing her, holding her tightly.

"Scarlett, my pet, relax. All new brides are nervous on their weddings nights."

"What do I care for all new brides?" Scarlett huffed, averting her eyes from his gaze.

"Scarlett, look at me," he instructed gently. "Look at me now, good girl." His eyes were kind, kinder than she had ever seen. "Do you trust me, Scarlett?"

"I hardly know you," Scarlett responded, squirming uncomfortably in his arms.

"You knew me enough to marry me," he chuckled.

"Fine. I trust you," she replied begrudgingly.

"Then trust me to look after you here, my darling," his lips peppered kisses along her hairline. "Forget everything you have been told, everything you have been taught and just _feel."_

"Will it hurt?" Scarlett asked meekly, tipping back in his arms and allowing her bones to turn to liquid all over again.

"Only at first my dearest, loveliest Scarlett," his voice was hoarse, heavy with passion and desire for her, unwilling to broke any further delays. "And then never again."

"Oh," she murmured.

"I will show you pleasure, Mrs. Butler," he spoke the words as a vow. "I will school you in it, lay all my talents at your disposal, if only you'll let me."

"Yes," she whispered unthinkingly, gasping as his lips took possession of hers in a ferocious kiss that left her breathless, her head swimming. She was clutched against his chest, his powerful muscles holding her far too tightly to be proper and, as his hands went back to the fastenings of her dress, she couldn't bring herself to care.

She blushed ferociously as he finally divested her of her travelling dress, leaving her clad in shoes, shimmy and stockings. She shivered as the cool night air touched her skin and Rhett stepped back to look at her, his eyes lit up with frank admiration.

"Very nice, Mrs. Butler," he nodded his appreciation.

"You ill-mannered..."

"Hush," his lips came down upon hers, hard and fast, before he set apart divesting himself of his own garments. First his cravat, then his cufflinks were removed, and before long his shirt was undone, exposing his brown chest, covered with thick black hair. Scarlett blushed darkly at the sight, for she had never seen anything so strong, so firm, so decidedly masculine. Without thought, she reached out to touch, tangling her fingers in the coarse hair she found there.

"Do I please you, Mrs. Butler?" He asked, his voice darkly dangerous, simmering with barely suppressed desire.

"Very much," she replied, her frank words at odds with her shy smile.

"Then come to me," he whispered seductively.

Come to him she did. Kisses, caresses, murmured words of seduction and desire were shared. Cries of pleasure and pain were exchanged and, some time later, as Scarlett lay drowsily in her husband's arms, she was left wondering how anybody ever left their bed, when their was so much pleasure to be found there.

So caught up was she in these pleasant thoughts, that she missed the growing air of anxiety coming from her new husband.

For Rhett was anxious, despite the pleasurable languor that had invaded his body and refused to leave. That he had enjoyed their love making was unquestionable, that he was less positive of Scarlett's enjoyment would have made him laugh at any other time. But in all his life, with all his experience, he had never before bedded a virgin and he had been at pains to ensure his new wife enjoyed herself, so she would not develop the distaste so many women did to the marriage bed. He had tried his best to take his time, to love her slowly and to ensure her pleasure, but he knew he'd been carried away in the pleasure of the moment, in how good she felt around him. And now he was to suffer for it! Now, as she lay naked and drowsy against his chest, and he was left in agony, desperate to know what she was thinking, how she was feeling.

"Are you well, Scarlett?" Rhett eventually asked, unable to abide not knowing any longer.

"Quite well," she responded drowsily, tangling her fingers in his chest hair.

"It will get better, with time," Rhett vowed. "The pain... it won't be repeated."

"Better?" Scarlett laughed and for a moment, Rhett knew real fear. Fear that she had found the whole business so distasteful that she would bar him from her bed for the rest of their lives. "Rhett, if it get's much better I think I might catch flame!"

Rhett laughed then, with real relief and more than a little pride.

"So you enjoyed yourself then did you, my dear Mrs. Butler? I won't deny I'm glad to hear it, for I enjoyed _my _self quite a bit as well and I'm already looking forward to repeating the experience."

"Repeating?" Scarlett scrambled up from her purchase on his chest to look at him in the eye. "How often are married couples expected to...ah... perform in such a manner?"

Rhett laughed again, louder and longer than before, reaching up to stroke the hair away from Scarlett's face.

"My dear, there are no expectations, certainly not in our marriage. We may _perform _together as regularly or irregularly as we please, assuming of course that the both of us are willing participants."

"Oh," Scarlett smiled prettily at him and, leaning down, bestowed a chaste kiss upon her lips. She felt her cheeks reddening and wondered how she was still capable of blushing after the intimacies he had just performed on her person.

"And while we are speaking of the expectations around our marriage, I would speak to you on that subject," Rhett continued, running a hand errantly down her naked back, enjoying the goose flesh that erupted wherever his hands trailed. "I'm of a mind to set our marriage off on the right foot, so when better to discuss it then now, when we've just loved each other to satisfaction?"

"Oh, Rhett," Scarlett giggled, toying again with the hair on his chest. "You are awful."

"Scarlett, I told you when I proposed that our marriage would be fun and I intend to keep that promise. Whatever your mother and your mammy told you of a wife's duties I'd rather you forget their advice now. We've long established that I'm not a gentleman, and I have no need for a gentle lady wife. If I had, I should not have married you. Instead, I want a wife to have fun with. I've long been told that I've got a way with women and you'll be the recipient of that expertise, my dear. Tell me, what should you like best to do?"

"Oh, dance!" Scarlett exclaimed immediately. "And have pretty things to wear."

Rhett laughed, tugging firmly on an errant lock of hair.

"Then dance you shall my darling wife, and in the prettiest gowns available. We'll go shopping together and I shall dress you like a girl does her dolls. Jewelry too, if you like it. And you shall have all the money you please for the house and for gifts for your family."

"Oh, Rhett, you're too good to be true!" Scarlett beamed at her, a real, genuine smile that momentarily stalled his heart in his chest.

"I fully intend to spoil you, my dear, for it is about time my ill gotten gains went to some good cause. There's not much I shall ask in return of you, except for one thing," he paused here, eyebrows raised, his tone imparting the gravitas of the statement he was about to make. "I can take almost anything from you dear Scarlett and I doubt there's much you can do that would shock me, in fact, I'd bet that whatever you do, I'm likely to have done it first. What I won't accept from you is a lie. No matter what you've done, whatever you're thinking or feeling, you must be honest about it Scarlett, do you understand me? Because if you're not, and I find out (and trust me Scarlett, I will find out!) I shall be far angrier with your lie than whatever it is that caused you to lie in the first place."

"I understand Rhett," Scarlett replied with solemnity equal to his own. "And..." she paused, unsure whether to continue. Mammy and Ellen would have been horrified at the question that was poised on the tip of her tongue, but, by Rhett's rules, that ought to mean she should ask it. She paused, uncertain, vacillating.

"Go ahead Scarlett," he instructed.

"Will you do the same? Promise not to lie?"

Rhett's eyes shot up in comical disbelief, clearly, he had not been expecting that.

"An interesting concept my dear, a couple where neither ever tells the other an untruth. We may be a social experiment for the ages," he ran a thoughtful hand over his chin. "Well my dear, I shall swear also, and we shall see the ramifications of such a pact play out before us!"

"Thank you Rhett," Scarlett smiled prettily, and leaning down, brushed her lips across her new husbands mouth. Seconds later, she was pinned beneath her husband, giggling and shrieking. Neither of them knew sleep till some hours hence.

* * *

_Sigh. I love this chapter. Please let me know your own thoughts in a review, they always make me smile!_


	6. Part II, Chapter VI

_Apologies for the late update. Life got in the way of writing and to be honest, I completely forgot to post on Sunday._

_Also, I've worked a 12 hour day and the glass of wine in my hand is putting me to sleep, so my editing skills are shaky at best. Please forgive any errors. _

* * *

**Chapter VI**

_In Atlanta a warm sun was at work..._

...But for Rhett and Scarlett, their newfound connubial bliss saw them miss the sun, and the first train to Charleston the next morning. Scarlett was mortified, but Rhett laughed away her embarrassment, until she too was laughing. They lingered over a long breakfast, laughing and feeding each other, exchanging kisses as often as they exchanged food. From there, they retired to the train station to await the next train to Charleston. Sitting inside the train station, far closer than was proper, Scarlett was giggling as Rhett nibbled delicately on her ear, though she broke away, blushing as she heard a group approaching her, calling her name.

It was the newly married Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton and Mr. and Mrs. Wilkes. Scarlett tried to mask her irritation at having their love making interrupted, but feared that it must have shone through, for the two other couples, newly arrived from Clayton County, refused to linger. As they said their goodbyes however, Melanie, the new Mrs. Wilkes, had a question to ask of the new Mrs. Butler.

"Would you be adverse to beginning a correspondence with me Mrs. Butler?" Melanie enquired shyly. "For knowing what a good friend you have been to my Ashley, I feel as close to you as I would a sister."

Scarlett could think of no way to politely decline and so gave her assent, promising to write to Mrs. Wilkes from Paris.

As the other couples departed, Ashley's eyes met Scarlett, and the two friends knew this might be the last they would see each other for years. It was with real regret, tempered with a hearty dose of true relief, that Scarlett big her friend's goodbye.

"Why, they couldn't have rushed off any quicker had they had tried!" She later pouted to her husband as they were settled in their private cabin to Charleston. "I must say they were acting queerly."

Rhett laughed.

"You're glowing my dearest wife, and, having been newly married themselves, I'm sure your friends were rather able to discern the reason behind your radiance."

Scarlett blushed deeply and becomingly at the thought of Ashley and Charles imagining the liberties Rhett had taken with her body the night before.

"Though, as a nod to your vanity, I must say my dear, that you had far more of the radiance of a new bride than either of Mrs. Wilkes or Mrs. Hamilton. Though perhaps," Rhett laughed "I am merely flattering myself with such an observation."

Scarlett fell asleep shortly into the trip, for her sleep the night before had been frequently interrupted by her husband. Before she knew it, they were in Charleston.

Scarlett had been to Charleston many times before on visits to her mother's sisters, Pauline and Eulalie. On those occasions she had found Charleston to be as banal as a city could be, with it's inhabitants so hung up on traditions and family and so all together critical of the land Scarlett loved. The lilting accents of the natural inhabitants had driven Scarlett to distraction and her Aunts' lack of any interesting society had made these visits something to be dreaded rather than anticipated.

They were to be in Charleston only three nights before their ship set sail for the shores of Calais, however. And, with her husband by her side, Scarlett imagined she should be able to manage a few days in the harbor city.

They were to stay at the Charleston Hotel, quite the best establishment in town, and in the bridal suite, which put the National Hotel room that Scarlett had been so enamored with only hours previously, to shame. Scarlett danced around the wide, airy room, with arms outstretched, laughing gaily as she fell in a heap on the floor under the amused gaze of her husband. To her immense surprise, he joined her there, leaning forward to kiss her thoroughly, before stretching his long legs out before himself and leaning back on his elbows.

"Rhett, I'm so happy!" She declared, kicking her feet merrily against the carpet, unable to feel the hardness underneath her, as plush as it was.

"And I intend to keep you that way, my dear," Rhett told her. "What should you like to do with our time in the city of my youth?"

"Oh, I don't know," Scarlett shrugged, disregarding Mammy's assurances that ladies did not _ever _shrug. "There's no point going shopping, not when we're on our way to Paris. I imagine there are friends you want to visit with. And I suppose I best arrange a call to both my Aunt's." Her nose wrinkled in distaste at the thought.

"On that score my dear, I believe you would have better success should you ask your Aunt's to call on us," Rhett suggested, with no little delicacy.

"Oh well, I suppose I ought," Scarlett agreed absentmindedly. "I am, after all, a new bride, and it is certainly my right. Why though Rhett?"

"You forget, my unthinking bride, that there are places in the world, and Charleston is one of them, where I am not received," he smiled then, his white teeth gleaming against his tan skin, his relaxed nonchalance making him appear every inch the scoundrel rumor reputed him to be.

"Oh!" Scarlett gasped, for she had quite forgotten her husband's reputation. "Oh dear. Do you think they would come?"

"For your sake, and the sake of your dear mother, I believe they will," Rhett responded. "If only to carry a report back to your family as to how your new husband treats you."

"Well in that respect they shall have not a thing negative to report at all," Scarlett beamed. "They may write a long letter, full of every complaint available to them (and no doubt they will!) but they shall not be able to repine your treatment of me!"

"You flatter me, my dear," Rhett rose to his feet, bowing mockingly. "Come my dearest wife, to bed and I shall treat you very well indeed."

"Shall you call on your family while we are in town Rhett?" Scarlett asked, some hours later as they sat together in their rooms, eating supper. Scarlett was clad only in her nightgown and, having never eaten a meal in her night things before, except for when ill, she found the whole business quite naughty indeed.

"Certainly not!" Rhett declared. "My father would never see me, not even my new bride would tempt him to forget his grievances against me. I will endeavor to get a note to my mother, and she may find a way to visit with us and, if we were lucky, might bring my sister Rosemary with her."

"And your brother?"

"He wouldn't dare," Rhett laughed shortly. "I won't even bother him with a note."

"Oh," Scarlett responded, somewhat disappointed. She had hoped to lay eyes on the woman who had engendered Rhett's excusal from Charleston society. "Have you nieces or nephews?"

"None to speak of," Rhett replied. "My sister is not yet married, much to my mother's eternal disappointment. My brother and his harridan of a wife have not been so blessed. Whether because she has banned him from her bed or for other reasons I am unsure."

Scarlett blushed at such frank talk and blushed harder again at Rhett's laughter at her discomfort.

"Is your sister very old to be unmarried?" She asked.

"Oh yes, quite old, twenty if she's a day," Rhett laughed. "My mother despairs of her being branded an old maid!"

And so she should! Scarlett thought. Unmarried at twenty, she must be very ugly!

"Are you very close with your sister?"

"Quite, considering how young she was when I was banished from the family home," Rhett responded. "She was only eight when my father cut me off, and I've only managed to see her a handful of times over the years. Still, I remain a firm favorite with her."

Scarlett didn't answer, trying as she was to do arithmetic in her head, something she had never excelled at. It was embarrassing to be unaware of one's own husband's age, but Scarlett had never found a way to ask. She knew he had been twenty when he was expelled from Charleston, and if his sister had been eight at the time...

"Go ahead and ask Scarlett, I can practically see the steam pouring out your ears," Rhett laughed mockingly.

"Very well," Scarlett poked her tongue out at him. "How old are you Rhett?"

"I'm double your age, my dear," he responded, laughing aloud as he saw her face screw up in confusion anew. "Thirty two, dearest. Are you quite shocked to have such an elderly husband?"

"Oh no! In truth I thought you much older than that," Scarlett responded flippantly. "Though it _is_ rather odd to think of you being of an age with my own mother. Why, had you grown up in the same city, and had you not been such a scoundrel, you might have been one of her beaux!"

Rhett laughed long and hard at this, before pulling her across the table and onto his lap, leaving their meal quite forgotten.

* * *

Scarlett was surprised when a hotel employee delivered a note to her husband later that afternoon. He answered the door in pants and shirt, his feet bare, his chest exposed, leaving a blushing Scarlett in bed. After closing the door, he unfolded the note, his eyes scanning the words that were written there before barking with laughter.

"What is it Rhett?" Scarlett asked immediately, never liking to be left out of a joke.

"I hope you've something to wear to dinner tonight my dear, for it seems we shall be dining in the hotel restaurant," with a wry smile, he handed the note to her.

_Butler, _(it read)

_How very like you to come to town and not see fit to so much as send a note! And with a new bride none the less! Cecilia and I shall see you and your wife at the Charleston Hotel restaurant for dinner tonight at 8pm. _

_Bennet._

"Who is Bennet?" Scarlett asked.

"Wilhelm Bennet. A very old, very good friend of mine," Rhett was grinning, a real, genuine smile. "We went to school together as boy's, ran together as reckless young men and when I was disowned, he kept me from the poor house until I could get back on my feet. You're such a poor judge of character Scarlett, that you'll like him immensely I think. He's almost as much of a scoundrel as I am."

"Is he European?"

"Bennet?" Rhett laughed. "As Southern as you and I, my dear. The name's a hand-me-down from his great, great, great grandfather, who most certainly _was not_ a Southerner. His wife, Cecilia, is French however. I was there the night they met, she was a can-can dancer at the Moulin Rouge and one night as we drank ourselves silly in that exalted establishment, Bennet fell in love."

Scarlett was aware her mouth was hanging open, but she couldn't seem to remember how to close it. A can-can dancer! She'd never met a person such as that in her life.

"Did they marry immediately?" Scarlett eventually asked.

"God no!" Rhett laughed. "It took Bennet almost two years to convince her to leave off her feathers and run away with him. She's a very stubborn woman, reminds me of you rather."

Scarlett didn't know whether or not to be offended. She knew that any other woman of her acquaintance certainly would have been, but she rather thought Rhett had meant it as a compliment.

"Is she pretty?"

"Of course," Rhett responded, enjoying the way his young bride's feathers ruffled at his response. "Not quite as pretty as you my darling wife, but close."

"Have they any children?"

"Not one," Rhett grinned. "Come now my little pea-hen, smooth your plumage. Wear that watered green silk number this evening and nobody shall look in Cecilia's direction."

"I shall," Scarlett tossed her head, causing Rhett to laugh.

"There's a good girl," Rhett pinched her cheek affectionately. "I do love to see you in green. Perhaps when we reach Paris I'll buy you a set of emerald jewels."

"You're just trying to buy my forgiveness for saying that woman is almost as pretty as me," Scarlett pouted, though she was secretly delighted.

"My darling if I wanted to beg your forgiveness I wouldn't do it with jewels," Rhett laughed. "And if I do chose to give you jewels I expect to see you wear them, preferably with no other adornments, not even clothes."

"Rhett you are awful," Scarlett giggled. "Call the maid will you? I ought to dress."

"I think I rather prefer you the way you are now."

"Still, I don't think I should dine this way," Scarlett laughed.

"If you must dress," Rhett sighed. "We won't bother the maid."

"And how do you propose I dress myself?"

"I don't propose you dress yourself at all. Up you get my dear, let me lace you."

"You?" Scarlett exclaimed, surprised. "You know how to lace a corset?"

"I have many talents no gentleman should own," Rhett grinned at her. "Lacing a corset is not the least of them. Up you get my dear."

Being dressed by Rhett was the most erotic experience of Scarlett's young life. His lips had traced the path her stockings were to take, his hands ran lines up and down her smooth and supple skin and he laced her to the point of breathlessness. By the time the final button of her emerald green evening gown was fastened, she was panting desperately, beside herself with need for her husband.

Rhett was hardly in better shape, and the knowledge of his new bride's desire for him did nothing to alleviate his own. He had known from the day they met that there was a deeply passionate young woman waiting to be awakened, but even in his wildest dreams he couldn't have imagined just how she would respond to his ardor.

"You can't mean to leave me like this!" Scarlett exclaimed, as Rhett tugged on his cream dinner jacket.

"I assure you, my dear, I'm in a scarcely less desperate situation than you," he grinned at her roguishly. His smile faded as he took in her eyes, swimming with unshed tears of frustration. "Come my darling, it's not so bad, think how good it shall be when we return to our rooms after dinner."

"I don't want to wait!" She cried. "I feel...I feel as if... I might explode."

"My impatient little wife," Rhett's husky tones caressed the words he spoke. "I promise you darling, I shall make the wait more than worth your while later this evening."

Scarlett wanted to stamp her feet and scream in frustration. She was not used to being denied things she wanted and she had never felt the way Rhett had made her feel with his caressing hands and silky tongue. Mustering all the dignity she possessed, Scarlett held her head high and swept past her waiting husband.

"Well done Scarlett!" Rhett exclaimed, for he had been anticipating a temper tantrum from his very young wife.

"You're hateful Rhett Butler," she hissed at him. "I shouldn't want your attentions should you chose to bestow them on me."

In an instant Rhett had her by her arm and she was pressed between the door of their rooms and his hard, unyielding body.

"What did I say about lies, Scarlett?"

"Yes, but you knew I was lying, so it really doesn't count," Scarlett smiled a winning smile and bestowed a quick kiss on her husband's lips. "Now hurry, or we'll be late."

"Minx," Rhett growled, taking her arm and propelling her down the stairs.

The restaurant was busy, full of people and smells and noise. Rhett seemed to know their destination, for he towed her through the melee, straight to a table in a secluded corner, where a handsome couple sat.

"Butler!" The man cried, reaching for Rhett with hands outstretched and, to Scarlett's immense surprise, embracing him heartily. "You old dog you!"

"Bill Bennet!" Rhett exclaimed, beaming with pleasure, transforming his already handsome features into something that fair stole Scarlett's breath. "You don't ever change." He reached for the pretty woman then, bowing gallantly over her hands. "Cecilia, you're more beautiful than ever!"

"And you're the same scoundrel as always," the woman laughed, a melodic sound that Scarlett was instantly jealous of.

"Come Rhett, introduce us to your stunning bride!" The man named Bennet instructed, turning to Scarlett.

"Scarlett this is Bill and Cecilia Bennet," Rhett turned to her and smiled fondly. "Bill, Cissy, my wife, Scarlett."

"A pleasure, my dear Mrs. Butler," Bennet bowed elegantly over her hands. "Though what a beauty like you is doing with an old scoundrel like Rhett I've no idea."

"Congratulations, Mrs. Butler," the lilting voice of the French woman addressed her. "I've longed for the day I'd meet the woman who could get our Rhett to settle into the balms of matrimony."

Scarlett cast a critical eye over Mrs. Cecilia Bennet. She was beautiful, just as Rhett had said, tall and statuesque, with dark hair and eyes and an elegant figure. She was older than Scarlett, more of an age with Rhett and Brent and, Scarlett was relieved to see, she wasn't quite as beautiful as Scarlett herself.

"We've ordered champagne to toast your marriage," Bennet indicated the bottles waiting on the table. "And food to begin with, come, sit Mrs. Butler, I've many stories to tell you of your rascal of a husband."

As Scarlett lifted her glass to her mouth, she errantly thought that she had consumed more champagne in the last three days than she had in the entirety of her life put together. The bubbly liquid was sweet and refreshing and as soon as she'd swallowed her first mouthful, she was going back for a second.

"Well Butler, as Cissy said, we've both longed for the day we'd meet the woman who was brave enough to lure you into marriage," Bennet began, shooting Scarlett a glance that on any other man would have seemed ill-bred. "Though I hardly thought you'd rob the cradle in order to do it! Tell me Mrs. Butler, how old are you?"

Scarlett's mouth dropped open in shock. Rhett laughed. Cecilia smacked her husband's arm, hard.

"Wilhelm Bennet!" She exclaimed, before turning her gaze to Scarlett. "Forgive him Mrs. Butler, he's been on the edges of society so long he's forgotten his manners."

"It's an honest question!" Bennet protested.

"Can't you see you're embarrassing her?"

"I'm sixteen Mr. Bennet," Scarlett responded haughtily, quite ready to leave this subject behind.

"Oho! Sixteen! Half your age Butler! You sly dog, you!" Bennet seemed overjoyed. "Rhett Butler and his child bride, how the matrons of Charleston's tongues will wag!"

"Enough, Bennet," Rhett's tone was dark and vaguely threatening. "Scarlet's age has nothing to do with our marriage. Leave off."

"You can't expect me not to enjoy this?" Bennet demanded in affront.

"That is exactly what I expect," Rhett replied, eyes sinister. "My wife is a lady, I expect for you to treat her with respect."

"My apologies Mrs. Butler," Bennet replied immediately, though his eyes showed how shocked he was by his friend's actions. "My wife is correct, I've been too long in the shadows of polite society."

Scarlett accepted his apologies readily, more than eager to let go of this embarrassing topic of conversation. Daringly, she squeezed her husband's knee under the cover of the tablecloth, both surprised and gratified that he had come to her defense in such a manor.

After the far from magnanimous start to the evening, Scarlett could have been forgiven for expecting the remainder of the evening to drag awkwardly. Thankfully, she was mistaken. Once the air had cleared Scarlett found Mr. and Mrs. Bennet to be charming people, both full of highly entertaining, and rather improper stories about her husband and the world they had once occupied together. Cecilia Bennet shared with Scarlett several of the best places to visit, shop and be seen in Paris, those places only a local would know, and Scarlett set the table to gales of laughter by demanding a pen and paper from the waiter so she could note down all the hints shared with her so they would not be forgotten.

They parted amicably; assisted by several bottles of very good quality champagne and the Bennet's went so far as to petition to visit them in Paris, once they were settled.

Overall, despite the beginning of the evening, Scarlett found that she liked the other couple very well indeed, and so she told her husband, as they retired together to their rooms very late that evening.

"I knew you would," Rhett smiled, his white teeth standing out shockingly in the darkness of the corridor. "Though Bennet's behaviour at the start of the evening was hardly excusable. He has not the talent of laughing at people in good taste and it has always been his downfall."

"The talent you have you mean?" Scarlett queried, thinking of the mocking smile he so often wore, but that so few took offense to. "I think that, knowing him, I understand you a little better Rhett."

"I should hope not Madam!" Rhett exclaimed, shutting the door of their suite very firmly behind him. "Now, I believe earlier you said something earlier about exploding?"

* * *

_Your kind words and support mean the world to me. I'm truly overwhelmed by the reception this story has received. Thank you. _


	7. Part II, Chapter VII

**Chapter VII**

_Scarlett O'Hara could never rest well except between linen sheets and on the softest feather beds..._

... But she could have slept on wooden planks that night, as exhausted as she was. Scarlett was pulled from sleep what felt like five minutes after she had first closed her eyes. Her husband's lips danced tantalizingly down her throat, his mustache tickling her sensitive, love bruised skin.

"Let me alone Rhett," she whispered, flinging up a hand to shield her eyes. "I'm so tired."

"I know my pet," he nuzzled his nose into the crook where her ear met her neck. "But I believe we should expect my mother for breakfast, and I thought you might like to be dressed for her arrival."

Scarlett flew into a sitting position, taking in her husband, already immaculately turned out in a ridiculously dandy-like morning coat. His shave was so close his skin gleamed, his hair so well slicked that not even the strongest wind should dare to blow it awry.

"Rhett!" She gasped, scrambling from their bed and taking in her wild appearance in the mirror that hung before her. Her hair was snarled and tousled, her eyes heavy with sleep, every inch of available skin peppered with marks from Rhett's teeth, tongue and mustache. Her hair alone would take an age to tame into something manageable, never mind what she would do with her neck and shoulders!

The sound of her husband's laughter floated through to her in the dressing room, but she had no time to reproach him as she hastily donned her underthings, then ran from the closet, corset in hands.

"Quick Rhett, lace me up!" She demanded, thrusting the whalebone towards him.

"With pleasure my darling wife," Rhett's grin was mocking. A moment later he went on. "There you are my dear, eighteen beautiful inches wide."

"Take it to seventeen," Scarlett ordered, sucking in a breath in preparation for the squeezing she was sure would follow.

"No," Rhett responded definitively.

"Rhett," Scarlett wheedled. "I want to impress your mother."

"And you think having a seventeen inch waist is the way to do it?" Rhett laughed. "No Scarlett. My mother couldn't care if your waist was seventeen inches or thirty seven inches."

"Oh yes she could!" Scarlett exclaimed.

"Trust me Scarlett. My mother would rather you were the dowdiest of belles, but kind and loving to her poor son, than a beauty with a ten inch waist who was a viper."

"Oh you're horrid!" Scarlett fumed. "Lace me to seventeen inches Rhett, or I shall breakfast with your mother dressed as I am!"

Immediately, she knew she'd made a mistake.

"Oh my darling," Rhett laughed, drawing her into his arms and kissing her soundly. "Don't ever gamble with me my dear. I made my fortune at the card tables and I'm an expert bluffer."

"My waist was seventeen inches the day we met Rhett," Scarlett squirmed in his arms. "Please, oh please?"

"Oh turn around then!" Rhett threw up his hands in exasperation, though his smile told her he wasn't truly annoyed. "If you faint, I shan't revive you."

"Oh poo Rhett, I've never fainted a day in my life," Scarlett gasped as he tugged on her laces, with far more force than was strictly necessary. Laced to her satisfaction now, she pressed a fleeting kiss to his jaw and then flounced into the dressing room. She knew just the dress to wear to meet her mother in law, one of the few dresses Ellen had had made up for her before her wedding. At the time, Scarlett thought it frightful, with it's high neckline and covered arms and bosom, but she knew she looked quite well in it. The apple green was exactly her color, and the pretty lace cap that went with it was quite the thing to set off her dark hair. Struggling into it herself, then working to tame her hair into something presentable, Scarlett examined herself critically in the mirror. She looked every inch the young bride, sedate, respectable and rather boring. Smothering a sigh she moved out to the sitting room, spinning in a circle for her husband.

"What'd you think?" She asked coquettishly.

"Good God!" Rhett broke into a roar of laughter. "Good Lord Scarlett, you look positively matronly!"

"That's rather the idea Rhett," Scarlett pouted. "Seeing as I now _am_ a matron. I'm trying to look respectable and impress your mother."

"My darling, my mother knows me, perhaps better than any other person on this Earth. She hardly expects my wife to be respectable when God knows I myself am not."

"Last night you said I was a lady," Scarlett frowned at him, going to the closest mirror and straightening her lace cap. "Last night you said I was respectable. And if you want me to look like a lady in front of anyone it should be your mother."

"Quite right my dear, forgive me," Rhett bowed over her hand, his movements mocking. "Surely you can understand my shock at seeing you in this... get up."

"I thought I looked rather well," Scarlett fished.

"Pretty as a picture," Rhett replied, kissing her neck. "Though I'd rather you didn't buy anything like that again. I've ordered breakfast and I'll let the man in before I go. I'm meeting my mother downstairs to bring her up."

"Rhett?" Scarlett called him back. "Do you think she'll like me?"

"How could she not, my dear?" Rhett asked, drawing her into his arms again. "When she see's how happy you've made her most darling son."

"Oh get on with you," Scarlett giggled, settling herself into a chair and arranging her skirts to the best advantage.

An array of hotel employees arrived then, arranging a delicious looking repast as per Scarlett's direction. They had just filed out, leaving Scarlett to wait, when she heard her husband's voice, rich and lilting, drifting in from the hallway.

"I was lucky," another voice responded, sweet and soft, reminding Scarlett instantly of her own mother. "Maryanne Gouldberry is in town and staying at this very hotel. I shall visit with her once I leave you, so I shan't even be lying really."

"You might have told him," Scarlett heard her husband's voice, heavy with anger. "And let me deal with the consequence."

"No darling, you're on your honeymoon. Let me deal with your father."

They were at the door now, and Scarlett ran a last hand over her skirts, pasting her most pleasing smile on her face. She rose as Rhett entered the room, a handsome, dark haired woman in her fifties on his arm.

"Scarlett," he held his hand out to her, bringing it to his lips as he drew her closer. "This is my mother, Eleanor Butler. Mother, my bride Scarlett O'Hara Butler."

"Pleased to meet you Mrs. Butler," Scarlett curtsied prettily, before taking the older woman's outstretched hands.

"And you, Mrs. Butler," the woman smiled and Scarlett instantly received the impression that her son had inherited his mother's sense of humor. "But you must call me Miss Eleanor, as all our family does."

"Please call me Scarlett," Scarlett responded politely.

"Well we shan't stand on ceremony," Eleanor Butler settled herself comfortably on a settee Rhett indicated too. "We are family after all. Tell me of your wedding, Scarlett."

"Oh it was lovely," Scarlett replied happily. "We were married from my family plantation, Tara and half the County was there. There were garlands of spring flowers and hundreds of candles, my mother quite outdid herself."

"Especially considering how little time we gave her to plan the celebration," Rhett came to stand behind Scarlett's chair, his hands on her shoulders. "I confess I saw little but my bride."

Scarlett blushed becomingly and Eleanor Butler nodded her approval.

"I know your aunts' very well Scarlett," Eleanor mentioned, as Scarlett set about pouring coffee. "And have met your mother too, on occasion."

"Mrs. O'Hara asked to be remembered to you Mother," Rhett passed his mother a delicate china cup of coffee, prepared exactly to her liking. "She has fond memories of her visits with you."

"She is very kind," Eleanor thanked her son with a smile. "You have younger sisters I believe?"

"Yes, two."

"And speaking of younger sisters," Rhett interrupted. "I had hoped to see mine today. How is she?"

"Rosemary sends her regrets. She had a previous engagement that she was unable to extract herself from. If only you had given us more notice dear," Eleanor chided gently.

"And how are Ross and Diane?"

"The same as ever," Eleanor smothered a sigh.

"Ross isn't thinking of enlisting is he?"

"Oh no!" Eleanor gasped, as if she had never imagined such a thing. "Not with his condition."

"My younger brother was born with an irregular heart," Rhett turned to Scarlett and explained. "It has very little impact on his life, other than making him a lily-livered as a man might be and still call himself a man."

"That is unkind Rhett," Eleanor murmured disapprovingly

"And yet undeniably true," Rhett smothered a smile. "Come ladies, do have something to eat, I can't possibly demolish this repast by myself."

Conversation was casual as they ate, Eleanor mentioned the war but Scarlett begged off, instead changing the conversation to learning more about her new husband. To her disappointment, Eleanor had only positive things to say about her eldest son, though Scarlett was sure she must be more than aware of the mischief Rhett had caused as a child and as a young man.

Some time later, the food having been cleared away by the hotel staff, Scarlett began to feel that perhaps mother and son might appreciate some time to themselves. With a tact that was normally beyond her, she poured second cups of coffee for them all, before excusing herself.

"It seems to be warming into a lovely day outside," she mentioned, looking towards the window. "I think I shall take my coffee onto the balcony to enjoy the sunshine. No, no, no need to accompany me," she brushed Rhett off as he made to rise. "You two enjoy your coffee, join me whenever you like."

Rhett caught her hand as she passed, unfurling it and pressing a tender kiss to the inside of her palm. With a smile, she walked through the open French doors, settling herself on a patio seat, set slightly to the side, all the while congratulating herself on so neatly removing herself from the situation and allowing Rhett and his mother some time to themselves.

Until that was, that she heard the voices of Rhett and his mother through the open doors of the balcony and she heard her name mentioned.

"You seem quite enamored with your Scarlett, my dear," Eleanor was the first to speak.

Scarlett froze, eyes wide, mouth open. A lady she knew, would have moved away or closed the door, but... well Rhett did persist in telling her she was no lady...

"A natural condition for a husband to his wife," Rhett responded.

"Is she equally as enamored with you?"

Scarlett strained her ears to hear Rhett's reply.

"I can safely say mother, that Scarlett is growing to appreciate my charms."

Even from outside the room, Scarlett blushed.

"Go ahead mother, and say whatever it is you are thinking," Rhett sighed.

"It's just... she is _very_ young dear,"

Scarlett bristled, so what if she was young?

"She seems so... naïve and untried. So unready to be a wife," Eleanor paused here, obviously fighting for words. "I worry for you, my darling child. She has obviously seen so little of the world and you have seen and experienced so much, so much more than you would tell your mother I'm sure."

There was silence then and Scarlett sat outside, resisting the urge to storm inside and kick her mother-in-law out of their rooms. She had thought she had done so well, had thought that Eleanor Butler might actually have approved of her. Young! Why of course she was young, Rhett would never marry some on-the-shelf spinster like his sister!

"Scarlett _is _young," Rhett spoke eventually, shocking Scarlett. She had expected that he would speak for her, defend her and their marriage to his mother. His defection was surprisingly painful. "She's grown up in the country, the prettiest girl in three Counties and never experienced anything else. Her parents saw to her education, but she was never encouraged to think beyond what she had been taught. She has little experience beyond what was provided to her in Clayton County: riding horses, flirting with beaux and wearing pretty dresses. But there is something about her, Mother, a willingness to learn, to be guided and molded. She is fiercely intelligent in the things that matter and I believe that, with guidance, she will grow in the areas she now lacks."

"That is your intention then?"

"It is."

With shaking hands, Scarlett lowered her coffee cup to the small table beside her. Never in her life had she stopped to consider the way other's viewed her, as she was doing in that moment. Never had she considered that Rhett might find her lacking, that he might have married her with the intent of educating her, guiding her, taking her as anything less than she was. She was hurt, confused...

And determined to prove him wrong.

Katie Scarlett O'Hara Butler was not half Irish for nothing and, like her father before her, had never been one to shrink from a challenge. If Rhett intended to teach her, she would listen. She would prove to him, and his mother, that she was a lady, a woman, not a child... with God as her witness.

* * *

_I've hit a wall with the progression of this story (due mainly to the fact that Game of Thrones, books, TV show and fanfiction, are owning me right now.) Thank goodness that I'm so far ahead, so I'm not at risk of missing any updates for the foreseeable future. Please consider leaving a review, they're my biggest motivator to continue!_

_Thank you, as always, for reading. _


	8. Part II, Chapter VIII

_Apologies for the lack of review replies, my every spare minute is dedicated to Grad School/Masters applications at the moment. _

* * *

**Chapter VIII**

_It was Gerald's headstrong and impetuous nature in her..._

... That was all that kept Scarlett going through those next days as they awaited their passage to France. Introspection is a dangerous thing in those unprepared for it, and never had a person been more unprepared to have their faults exposed to them then Scarlett had been that day. Somehow, she had smiled her way through to the end of Eleanor Butler's visit, before retiring to bed immediately following her departure. Rhett had offered to accompany her, but she had demurred, claiming fatigue and spent the afternoon ensconced in the cool, calm bedroom, quite alone. She had emerged a determined woman.

The time alone had given her resolve time to strengthen. Rhett and Eleanor's words ran through her head until she was sure she could have recited them from memory and, with time, had come understanding. Rhett's final words had heartened her, for he was not trying to change what she was, but instead ameliorating that which made her unique.

When she emerged from their rooms, it was with the resolve to follow her husband's guidance and advice, while remaining as true to herself as could be. She found him in the sitting room, newspaper open, cigar in hand. Leaning down, she kissed him passionately, shrieking, as he pulled her down to seat her in his lap.

"Are you well?" He asked seriously, when he eventually pulled away.

"I am," she responded. "Next time, I'll let you rest with me."

"Not if you truly need to sleep," Rhett responded with a mocking smile. "Now... what shall we do this evening?"

Scarlett giggled, falling helplessly into his arms, for she knew exactly what he had in mind.

* * *

Two days later they were en route to France. To Scarlett, who had never been anywhere near a boat before, everything about life shipboard was exciting. In her husband she found a wealth of knowledge regarding all things seafaring and she listened attentively to all he shared with her. When she queried how he came by his knowledge, he had laughed.

"My darling, I forget how little time we have truly known one another," he chucked her chin affectionately. "I attended West Point with the intent of becoming a sea captain, before I was expelled however."

"Expelled?" Scarlett gasped. "Whatever for?"

"Ungentlemanly conduct," Rhett laughed derisively. "Still, I learnt much in my time there, and still intend to put it to profitable use."

Like a child with a new plaything, Scarlett exhausted herself discovering the many nooks and crannies of the ship that first day, so much so, that as soon as dinner had finished, she had begged Rhett to retire to their chambers together, so that she might sleep. She was slumbering within moments of crawling in between the fine cotton covers, her mouth hanging open lightly, her breathing deep.

Rhett sat in the chair beside the bed, an open book in his lap, and a cigar lightly smoking in one hand. His attention however, was on his heavily sleeping wife.

In sleep, she looked younger, almost childlike. Her hair spilled down around her shoulders, her features smooth and relaxed, without any of the beguiling looks and coquettish airs that she normally wore during the day. Rhett had never been as aware as he was in that moment of the age disparity between them. Though, after the events of the last several days he had begin to think her more mature, and wiser, than he had previously given her credit for.

Rhett's brow furrowed in a rare frown, remembering the events of the day before. Scarlett's aunts had made their much anticipated visit and it had been the spectacle Rhett had been prepared for, and then some.

Eulalie and Pauline were exactly as Rhett remembered them from their past interactions, haughty, judgmental women, who were more concerned with appearances and respectability than getting to know the nature of a person. He was sure that they must have some redeeming qualities, they were sisters to Mrs. O'Hara after all, of whom he had the highest of opinions and for his own mother's sake he was sure there must have been something in them to have managed to sustain such a relationship. Whatever that quality was, he had certainly not seen it upon their visit to the rooms he and Scarlett were sharing at the Charleston Hotel.

He had appeared every inch the besotted husband during their visit, dancing attendance on them and his wife, all the while they could barely make the merest overtures towards civility. Ill-mannered behavior had never bothered him before, not when he was so easily able to outwit most he came across, but for Scarlett's sake, and their respective mothers, he was hard pressed to contain his anger.

Eventually, unable to maintain a civil tongue in his head, he excused himself to the balcony. Raising a fresh cigar to his lips he breathed deeply, enjoying the soothing and familiar scent of a genuine Cuban.

"What can you have been thinking?"

The exclamation from the sitting room surprised him, he hadn't been aware that the conversation between Scarlett and her aunt's would carry to his ears. Incensed, he made to re-enter the room, when his wife's cold reply stopped him in his tracks.

"I don't pretend to understand your meaning Aunt."

"Marrying that... that... man! Scarlett, how could you? How could our poor dear sister have allowed such a shame to come to the family? Don't you realize Niece, what this will do not only to your own social position, but to ours as well? But you can not possible realize, or you never should have. Dear niece, it pains me to be the one to acquaint you with it, but your husband, for all his blood being pure and as respectable as can be, he is a... a picaroon! His poor mother, what she has suffered! Niece you know not the match you have made!"

Usually, at such a description, Rhett would have laughed, for though exaggerated it was, for the most part, a rather apt branding of him. For Scarlett's sake however, he was seething at the presumption of these two harridans. Resolved to interrupt, Rhett was once again pulled up short by the sound of his wife's voice.

"I should have believed better of my mother's sisters," her tones were arctic. "Than to believe such nonsense. To be more affected by idle gossip than by the word of a niece and a most beloved friend. My husband has treated you with every civility, which is more than I can say of your own behaviour this day! And surely you can see how well, how _very_ well, he treats me. In short, Aunt's, in my marriage I have no cause to repine and that should be enough for you as my kinsfolk, to be more than satisfied with my situation."

From the balcony, Rhett's mouth had stretched to a large grin at being so championed by his own wife. To his surprise, Scarlett continued –

"I fully anticipate you writing to my mother with your own accounts of our meeting today but rest assured Aunt's, that my Mother will also hear from me on the subject! It pains me, to grieve her so, but the situation is not of my making." Her voice softened then. "Come Aunt Eulalie, Aunt Pauline, I am to leave tomorrow and do not know when we shall meet again, let us part as friends. I shall call my husband in now for us to make our farewells to you. I know you will behave as the example towards me you have always strived to be."

Rhett had burst into laughter at the last and had barely composed himself enough to respond to Scarlett's summons to rejoin them. As it was he had been unable to resist propping an arm about her waist and pressing a too-affectionate-for-company kiss upon her jaw line. Eulalie and Pauline had managed to keep their tongues civil as they made their goodbyes and as soon as the door had closed behind them, Rhett had spun his shrieking wife in a circle, kissing her soundly and affectionately, for he had thought her brilliant and her words in his defense had had a most profound impact on him.

Now, only two days later, as he sat watching his sleeping wife, he was no less impressed by her brilliant defense of him than he had been when it had first occurred. To his surprise, he began to wonder if perhaps he had underestimated the girl he'd married. She was naïve and untested, to be sure, but fiercely passionate and not just in matter's of the connubial variety, but in the protection of those she cared about. With a little education, a little exposure to the best of art and culture and society, he could not wait to see what would come out of her.

Rising from his chair, and stubbing out the very end of his cigar, Rhett knelt on the bed and lent across the form of his heavily sleeping wife.

"I am very glad I married you," he whispered to her sleeping form, brushing a kiss over her wild, dark hair.

Settling himself beside her and drawing her into his arms, Rhett smiled, surprised by just how satisfied he felt in that moment.

Paris awaited them.

* * *

_Thank you all for your continued support. Please consider leaving your thoughts in a review. _


	9. Part II, Chapter IX

_Before we begin, I must apologise for the unexpected delay in posting. A particularly stressful time at work, combined with Masters applications led to the resurgence of an anxiety disorder I had thought dormant for the last several years. I'm feeling much better now however and don't anticipate any further delays in posting._

* * *

**Chapter IX**

_Hoops in Paris were wider this season and skirts were shorter..._

... Scarlett was delighted and not just with the fashions, but with Paris in general. Never in her life had she imagined such a fashionable, merry place, where everybody you saw looked as if they had stepped straight out of the pages of _Godey's Lady's Book _and were all equally as dapper and congenial as could be. Of course this was not true of all Parisians, but Scarlett had a long history of only seeing what she wanted to and the poor beggars and street urchins of Paris could never quite figure into her worldview.

She was delighted with everything she saw and proclaimed as much to her husband frequently. From the time she had stepped onto dry land at Calais she had been prone to fits of delight and satisfaction, the intensity of which only increased upon their reaching Paris. Her reaction upon seeing the rooms Rhett had taken for them quite put to shame any of her previous exclamations of delight, for she was left speechless and, as Rhett said, that was quite something indeed.

The bed was the largest and most opulent Scarlett had ever seen, made up with pure silk bedding and dozens of cushions. The bath was another matter entirely, so large that Scarlett couldn't imagine how long it would take to fill and so opulent that it sat on it's own purpose-built platform, pressed against a window overlooking the bustling Paris street below. So impressed was Scarlett by the size of it, that she declared you could fit four men in it if you so desired.

"Perhaps not four," Rhett had laughed. "But certainly two."

Scarlett had blushed darkly at such a pronouncement, for she was certain she knew which two people Rhett was referring to.

Rhett had been strongly in favor of staying in and testing the magnificent bed and bathing tub, but Scarlett had come to Paris with one purpose in mind and she would not be delayed. To the finest of the ladies fashion boutiques they were to go.

The Rue de la Paix was, to Scarlett, heaven on Earth. And visiting with her husband was a surprisingly enjoyable experience, for he knew all the best places to shop and to her surprise, was quite knowledgeable on women's fashions. Had he been less obviously masculine his ability to recall details of dresses, bonnets and coiffures would have seemed the rankest effeminacy, but he seemed perfectly at ease lounging casually in dainty chairs meant for far lighter frames, oblivious, or uncaring, to the scandalized looks other shop patrons cast him as his pretty young wife modeled one creation after the other before him. Rhett was determined to superintend all choices of colors, materials and designs himself and he threw money at he shop properties like it grew on trees.

"Oh Rhett you mustn't!" Scarlett exclaimed, secretly delighted as he ordered another half dozen gowns on their third day in Paris.

"Oh but I must, my dear," he responded smiling. "For what is money compared to a wife's pleasure?"

The other women in the shop sighed enviously, thinking of their own husbands who begrudged them every penny and every pound.

Triumphantly, Scarlett laced her hand through her husband's arm, tossing her head so the long ostrich feather about her bonnet danced prettily.

_My, we're a handsome couple, _thought Scarlett happily as they left the dressmakers and made for the small bistro that had quickly become their favorite.

"My darling, you look like a cat that's got into the cream," Rhett smiled as they promenaded together, smiling and nodding at those of equal fashion who passed them.

"Rhett I am happy," she announced. "But you ought not spoil me so, for I shall grow used to it and demand it forever if you do."

"Demand away my dear," Rhett replied as he settled her into a chair in the _al fresco _area of the bistro, sending the waiters scurrying for coffee and pastry. "For we're unlikely to run out of blunt any time soon and I enjoy dressing you up as a small girl does a doll."

Almost better than the shopping in Paris was the food. Rich stews and cassolettes in heavy creams, delicate pastries and biscuits and endless coffee. Oysters and mushrooms and sweetbreads and turkey livers and fish cooked cunningly in oiled paper and limes. And just when Scarlett would pronounce that she couldn't possible eat another bite, the waiter would bring out dessert and she would find her appetite again.

"My dear you shall soon be as wide as a house," Rhett proclaimed, watching in astonishment as Scarlett made her way through yet another chocolate and meringue stuffed pastry.

"At the barbecue at Twelve Oaks you told me you liked a girl with a healthy appetite," Scarlett retorted.

"And I do, but I have no desire to have a wife who looks as though savages ought to be worshipping her as they do in the Orient," Rhett replied sardonically, knowing that Scarlett had no idea what he was talking about, but not caring to explain. "And if you grow so fat that you must walk sideways through doorframes, I shall divorce you."

For a moment, Scarlet gaped, for she had grown up in a household where the word _divorce_ was treated in the same way an obscenity would be. The idea was unthinkable and though she knew Rhett was kidding, she felt a shiver run down her spine, as if somebody had walked over her grave.

"You wouldn't divorce me," she told him. "Not if I were as wide as a house and as ugly as a mule. I shouldn't let you."

Rhett laughed at this.

"Am I to assume then, my sweet wife, that you are finding being married to me is to your satisfaction?"

"Always looking for compliments," Scarlett sighed, in one of the first true witticisms Rhett had ever heard from her. "But you know full well I like it very much. And not only for the pretty clothes and bonnets and shoes."

The smile she gave him then was almost sweet and as lacking in guile as any Rhett had seen her give. He was disgusted with the irregular beat his heart gave in response.

* * *

Scarlett's embarrassment when Rhett began to instruct the seamstress as to the acquisition of under garments was extreme. Her face flamed and she ducked her head as he ordered chemises, nightgowns and petticoats of the finest linen trimmed with dainty embroidery and infinitesimal tucks. He finished with silk stockings, dozens of pairs, not a single set with cotton tops.

"I thought by now you would have been completely comfortable with your old husband," Rhett had teased her later, once they were comfortable ensconced in their rooms.

"I am very comfortable with you," Scarlett replied, allowing herself to relax into a high backed armchair, her feet aching from a long day treading Paris' fashionable district. "It was the shop assistant, not to mention the half dozen other customers that caused my mortification!"

"All the other women in that shop were simply mad with jealousy, my dear," Rhett told her, kneeling before her and removing her slippers from her feet in a gesture that was almost shockingly intimate.

"Because of my handsome husband?" Scarlett asked with a role of her eyes, the effect quite ruined by the moan she gave as Rhett began to massage her feet tenderly.

"Thank you, my heart," Rhett grinned roguishly. "But no, they weren't jealous because of the manly good looks of your swarthy husband (though for certain that may have played a role!) They were jealous, honey, because none of their husbands would know what ladies undergarments looked like, let along knowing their wives sizes and preferences."

"You do run on," Scarlett scoffed, running an errant hand through her husband's dark hair.

"I'm serious Scarlett, you are too young, and too naïve to know that what we have is exceptional, rather than the norm for married couples," Rhett's fingers trailed over the arch of her foot, disappearing under her skirts to lightly stroke the backs of her knees. Scarlett shivered with pleasure.

"I've no idea what you're speaking about," she gasped, trying, and failing, to maintain a dignified air.

"I'm sure you don't," Rhett told her, now pressing kisses into her instep. "My darling Scarlett, don't you know that most gently bred women never feel the way you're feeling right now in their entire lives?"

"What do you mean?"

"The desire coursing through your veins, making your heart thrum and your pulse flutter is as rare as it is precious. Most husbands, myself obviously being the exception, care only for their own pleasure and are too eager to take any care with their mortified new wives and so transform the marriage bed into a thing to be dreaded rather than enjoyed."

"You ought not talk about such things," Scarlett scolded, half outraged, half intrigued by such scandalous discussion.

"No perhaps I shouldn't," Rhett told her. "But the fact is Scarlett, the fact that I _am_ comfortable discussing such things is the only reason you have enjoyed...erh... certain aspects of our marriage as you have thus far."

"Am I... wrong to enjoy our... marital duties... as I do?"

"Not at all," Rhett replied immediately. "And I do wish you wouldn't refer to them as duties Scarlett. Love making is meant to be enjoyed, by both parties."

"How do you know so much Rhett?"

"I told you the first day I met you, Scarlett, I'm no gentlemen."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that I have spent the last decade or so interacting with the most base elements of society, Scarlett. Men and women who have no difficulties in freely discussing such matters thoroughly and often. And when one spends time with such people Scarlett, you're sure to pick up a thing or two."

"Do you mean... women of ill repute, Rhett?" Scarlett gasped, shocked.

"Indeed my lovely innocent wife, I do," Rhett's smile was mocking, and a week prior, Scarlett would have missed the anxious gleam in his eyes. "Have I shocked you now?"

"No indeed," Scarlett responded pertly, though truly, he had. "And so long as you only lay your erh...talents at my disposal from now on, I have no issue at all."

He threw his head back and laughed at that, long and hard.

"My talents, as you call them, are entirely yours now honey. Do with them what you will!"

* * *

One morning, two weeks after their arrival in Paris, Rhett announced he was going out on business that day.

"Without me?" Scarlett asked in surprise from where she lay in bed.

"That was my intention," Rhett smiled teasingly. "However, if you should wish to attend my solicitors office with me I won't say no."

"Rhett!" Scarlett pouted. "What am I to do all day? I don't know anybody in Paris except you!"

"I'm sure you'll find someway to entertain yourself," Rhett shrugged, slipping on a set of cufflinks. "What did you do at Tara to occupy yourself?"

"Went ridding, visited friends, entertained our neighbors. If I was truly bored I helped Mother with the mending."

"I'm afraid I don't have any mending for you to do," Rhett apologized mockingly. "But if it is that important to you I shall certainly tear one of my shirts for your mending pleasure."

"You're being hateful," Scarlett sulked childishly.

"My deepest apologies Madam," Rhett was sarcastic now. "My oversight was that I believed I married an adult capable of entertaining herself for a few hours. I can see now that I was mistaken."

"If you're going to be awful like that then I should be glad to see the back of you," Scarlett turned her head, her voice frigidly cold.

He was perched on the bed in an instant, her hand in his.

"I'm sorry Scarlett," he murmured, coxing her chin upwards with his hands. "I won't be long and I shall promise to make it up to you. In the meantime..."

He left her then, moving towards his dressing room. When he returned, it was with a heavy, leather bound volume in hand. "Why don't you read this? I think you would enjoy it."

"I don't read novels," Scarlett turned her nose up at his offering, still hurt by his mocking.

"You might like this one. It's set in the homeland of your ancestors and it's about two cousins fighting for the love of a noble woman. It also details the Famine your father has told you so much about."

"No thank you," Scarlett replied pertly.

"Well, you may yet change your mind," Rhett sighed, looking at his timepiece and accepting that there would be no resolution before he was forced to depart. "I'll return in time to take you out for lunch. Goodbye, Scarlett."

"Goodbye Rhett."

"No kiss for your departing husband?" He asked leaning towards her.

The kiss that Scarlett pressed on his lips was almost sisterly in nature and ruefully, Rhett laughed as he decamped.

With a sigh, Scarlett reached for the latest issue of _Godey's, _but after several minutes, gave it up, unable to delight in the clever illustrations found within it as she normally did.

Calling the maid, she took her time about dressing, then spent half an hour attempting a complicated new hairstyle that she had heard about whilst visiting the seamstress only the day before. When she had accomplished it, she looked at her reflection critically in the mirror, thinking how awful it was to be dressed so beautifully and yet have nobody to show it off to.

She had letters from both her mother and Melanie Wilkes that she was yet to respond to and she supposed that now would be the time to do it. She spent some time composing, lengthy, thoughtful replied to each, not considering the delight she would give each of the women upon their receipt. Having finished, Scarlett made her way to the lobby, handing over her missives to the concierge who promised to see to their immediately being sent out.

It was still at least two hours before Scarlett believed she could reasonably expect Rhett's return and she was at a loss for something to do. Vaguely, she considered taking a walk, but dismissed it, realizing that without Rhett's guiding hand she was liable to lose her way.

The novel Rhett had recommended to her lay forgotten on the bedside table. Errantly, Scarlett picked it up, running her fingers along the soft leather, before tracing the gold embossed lettering on the cover –

_Castle Richmond, a novel by Anthony Trollope_

There was a soft chaise out on the sun-drenched balcony, calling her name. It couldn't hurt to flip through a few pages...

That was where Rhett found her upon his return some two hours later, curled into a comfortable ball, book in hand, eyes darting frantically across the pages, elegant dress and coiffure quite forgotten.

* * *

To imagine that the enjoyment of one novel would irrevocably change Scarlett in essentials would be foolish. Still, even without these expectations, Rhett was pleased to have seen her pursuing the tomb he had recommended. And later, as they dined in the afternoon sunshine, Scarlett's dress and hairstyle long since mended, he told her as much.

"Well, it wasn't a bad way to waste an hour or two, but honestly Rhett, I'd rather be shopping or gossiping."

"A fact I'm more than aware of my dear and that is why I've accepted an invitation for us to attend a ball tomorrow evening," Rhett told her with a wry smile. "Perhaps if you meet a few ladies whose company you can tolerate, you won't react quite so petulantly next time I have business to attend to."

"I thought we were on our honeymoon," Scarlett pouted. "I wasn't aware husbands conducted business on their wedding trips."

"What an awful, mean-hearted husband you have!" Rhett cried. "My poor dear Mrs. Butler, to be so neglected!"

"Oh do be serious," she hissed.

"Scarlett, as I intend for us to reside in Paris for some time, their will often be times when I need to see to matters of business. Even scoundrels like me must source their blunt from somewhere, particularly when I have such an expensive little wife to maintain."

"Where does your money come from?" Scarlett had never considered the question before.

Rhett laughed.

"Only you, dearest Scarlett, would wait a fortnight into marriage to consider how her husband intends to provide for her. I had considered you more mercenary than that!"

"I knew Pa wouldn't let me marry a Pauper," she brushed off his words. "Besides, it's obvious to look at you that you're hardly hard-to-do."

"My charming little ignoramus," Rhett murmured, with an expression so tender that the words were a caress. "So unthinking, so naïve. How I could have taken advantage of you had I chosen the less honorable course."

"Fiddle dee dee!" Scarlett exclaimed. "I'm not so green as you think."

"There, we must agree to disagree my darling wife," Rhett picked up her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. "Shall you like attending a Parisian ball?"

"Oh I suppose it shall be much the same as a ball back at home," Scarlett shrugged. "Though I do look forward to dancing. I shouldn't have gone so long without a reel since I was fourteen."

"An age, I'm sure," Rhett replied with mock solemnity. "And who shall you dance with?"

"Oh anybody who cares to ask I'm sure," she lowered her eyes flirtatiously, peeking out at him coquettishly. "Though I do hope a certain gentlemen will ask me once or twice."

"Determined little flirt," he chucked her beneath the chin. "Well my dear you should be pleased to know that I intend to have all your dances. Maybe I'll give the other boys a chance after I've had five or six in a row but..."

"Rhett you are a fool."

"For you, my dearest wife."

* * *

Scarlett couldn't have been more wrong, balls in Paris were an entirely different matter to balls in the South, or to anything else Scarlett had ever experienced. It was, as was fashionable, an absolute crush of people, all bedazzled in the brightest and most spectacular of fashions, all laughing and drinking and dancing without a care as to the solemn proprieties Scarlett was used to. The music was loud, the champagne free-flowing and the people, to Scarlett at least, utterly charming.

She told Rhett so as they danced and he laughed, squeezing her about the waist tightly.

"My delightful little country bride. So you like what you see do you? I certainly hope so, for now that we're _out_ in society, we're quite unable to avoid events such as these."

"How do you know so many people Rhett?"

"Business my dear," Rhett responded. "You'll find that almost anywhere we go in the world I shall have business associates to be met with. My interests are many and varied and there is nearly always somebody to meet with and some business to be done. And of course these men I meet with have wives, daughters and mothers, all of whom want to meet the woman who snatched up the handsome Rhett Butler."

"You are full of yourself," Scarlett laughed. "But it is _so _nice to dance again. I didn't realize how I'd missed it."

"You shall dance all night if you wish," Rhett told her. "You are the most beautiful dancer I've ever held in my arms."

Scarlett blushed charmingly at that. Rhett so rarely said pretty things, though she knew, with a woman's intuition when he appreciated how she looked. But when he complimented her as he just had, the surge of delight and excitement that ran through her was quite overwhelming.

"You sweet man," Scarlett smiled fondly at him, quite surprised when he bent his head to bestow upon her a firm, sound kiss.

"Rhett we're in public!"

"Do you care?"

"Well – no! But a girl is supposed to mind."

"I can't tell you how glad I am that my girl does not then." He squeezed her firmly about the waist. The set ended and the dancers applauded appreciatively. "Would you like to wait and catch your breath, or should we dance again?"

"Let's have a break," Scarlett agreed willingly. "I thought you were here tonight to do business, not dance all night."

"I'll be forgiven," Rhett shrugged. "It'll be said that I was too besotted by my pretty young wife to do anything except dance and tomorrow I'll be mocked by men to stupid to be jealous. It won't bother me in the least."

"If it means you shall be away for longer tomorrow, than I would rather you do business tonight," Scarlett replied, accepting a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

"My dear if I didn't know better I should say that you missed me today," Rhett teased.

"We've not been apart these few weeks," Scarlett said quietly, not rising to the bait he so temptingly dangled. "Of course I should miss you when you go."

"My darling wife!" The look Rhett gave her was smoldering. "Would that we were alone! But... no, it must wait. Come Scarlett, I shall do my business with my lovely wife at my side and hope that her battering eyelashes and coquettish smiles smooth the way for my dealings!"

Over the course of the next several hours, Scarlett was introduced to so many men that her head fair spun. She was unable to keep names and faces straight in her mind, though Rhett seemed to fair quite well indeed. The details of his business were of no interest to her, and when discussion turned in this direction, as it often did, she busied herself with looking around the room, comparing the gowns and adornments of the other women to her own and finding herself, usually, superior.

Her champagne glass was never empty, as the waiters filled it every time they passed around, delicious and exotic canapés were always soon to follow and the result was that, by the end of the night, Scarlett was both stuffed full, exhausted, and a little tipsy.

"There is a reason Mammy always said to only ever drink one glass of champagne a night," Scarlett giggled, as Rhett carried her to bed upon their return to their rooms.

"I am glad you chose not to listen," Rhett smiled as he pulled her slippers from her feet. "If you had, I would have missed this amusing spectacle you're presenting to me."

"I wouldn't have done this before I met you Rhett Butler," Scarlett told him sleepily. "You are a bad influence on me."

"I warned you as much the first day we met Scarlett," Rhett laughed. "Contrary child that you are, you refused to listen."

"I never would have drunk so much champagne before we were married," Scarlett continued, as if she had not heard Rhett's teasing. "And I wouldn't have worn such a low cut dress either." She plucked unthinkingly on the bodice of her rich blue evening gown.

"Has marriage changed you so much then my dear?"

"Of course," she responded, her words slurring as sleep claimed her. "Scarlett O'Hara never would have done any of these things, Scarlett Butler may do as she pleases."

"She certainly may," Rhett pressed a lingering kiss against her forehead. "Goodnight Scarlett."

He was met with no response, for Scarlett was already asleep.

* * *

_Thank you for reading. Your reviews never fail to make me smile._


	10. Part II, Chapter X

**Chapter X**

_Married women never had any fun..._

... Or such was the prevailing sentiment that Scarlett had grown up amongst. Matrons discussed matters of genealogy and obstetrics, relegated to arbors and front parlors, never to dance or laugh or flirt or frolic. They were always decorous, never amused and rarely anything except restrained and respectable. Scarlett had never given much thought to life beyond the alter, though if she had, she may have chosen to remain always unmarried, such was the opinion she had on the positions of matrons in Southern society.

Marriage to Rhett however, was different from any expectation Scarlett had ever had. She had more fun now than she ever had as a Belle in the South. There were parties every night, lunchtime soirées every day, the people were uniquely interesting and full of stories, life and laughter and every night she went to bed with her affectionate and passionate husband. Scarlett had hardly imagined such a life existed, where each day bought new experiences, new clothes, new foods and a new side of her husband.

"Never pass up new experiences, Scarlett," Rhett had advised her as she marveled at the adventures she had had since they had arrived in Paris. "They enrich the mind."

The newlywed Butler's were quickly surrounded by a lively social group mostly compromised of Rhett's many business associates and their wives. Scarlett quickly discovered that matrons _were_ capable of discussing more than babies, sickness and the elderly, that matrons could in fact, have the most scandalous discussions Scarlett could imagine, particularly when separated from their men folk, as was customary after supper. The things she learnt in those half hours during which the sexes were separated! Salacious gossip and scandalous talk! Things that made Scarlett blush to even think about. Occasionally she wondered if her mother and the other married women of the County talked the way the women of Paris did, but immediately dismissed such a notion, her mother would expire simply at the idea of such things! Ways to prevent babies, prolong intimacies with husbands and different ways to make love, some that Scarlett frankly thought must be impossible. Rhett had laughed long and loud when she confessed as much to him, and was at pains to demonstrate that such things certainly _were _possible, and not only possible, but entirely enjoyable also.

And so the weeks, then the months passed. Winter came early to Paris and Scarlett, who had never experienced heavy snow or true cold having grown up in Georgia, complained loudly about the weather at every opportunity. Her desire to go out, particularly at night, diminished greatly and as a result, she and Rhett spent many nights comfortably ensconced in their rooms aside the fire.

It was during this time more than any that taught Scarlett the man her husband truly was. How much he hid, how much he revealed, his thoughts, his dreams, she hoped his true self, was all revealed to her on those cozy nights in. She revealed just as much, though she quickly learnt that if Rhett was a babbling brook, filled with hidden nooks and crannies, an unexpected snarl here and a surprising deep spot there, she was a puddle, opaque and without hidden depths.

Her husband constantly surprised her, with his knowledge, his biting wit and with the way he treated her. He was deeply affectionate, treating her with all the delicacy one would handle a newborn bird with in one moment, before changing in the space of a second, to a roughly teasing joker, telling stories far from appropriate for the ears of a gently bred Lady. Scarlett could rarely predict with any real success which Rhett she would meet with, which made life exciting, particularly when, no matter which version of himself Rhett presented, he rarely failed to make Scarlett laugh.

He would incite her temper regularly. Too regularly truly, for he knew just the manner in which to tease, sure to get her back up and her Irish showing. And he adored soothing her ruffled feathers, with kisses and caresses, taunts and endearments. Yes, life with Rhett was fun; more fun than Scarlett had dreamed it could be, just as he had promised.

Scarlett had taken to sleeping late into the morning, a direct result of such busy days and late nights. She enjoyed nothing more than waking with the feeling of being completely rested and ready to face another day of fun and frivolity. Rhett did not keep the same hours as she did, but would dispose of his business in the time between his waking and hers, so that his time may be completely dedicated to their mutual pleasure.

One morning, much to her surprise, Scarlett found herself awakening many hours earlier than her norm. They had spent the last several nights at home, Scarlett unwilling to face the cold of Paris. Nights in were early nights, which went some way to explaining how early she had awoken.

Scarlett lay abed for several minutes, luxuriating in the amazingly soft sheets and the soft light streaming through the small part in the heavy curtains. She was naked beneath the sheets, Rhett having thoroughly loved her long into the night and as she stretched she felt the dull ache that she had come to associate with a night of lovemaking. A small smile graced her flushed face at the memory and for a moment, she considered calling for her husband, before dismissing the notion and rising, donning her wrapper and slippers for warmth and slipping through their rooms in search of Rhett.

She found him in the small study where he had taken to conducting his business, a light breakfast repast stretched on the small table in front of him, as he sat drinking a cup of coffee and balancing the newspaper on one knee. The newspaper was set aside, alongside the coffee cup and he grinned broadly upon seeing her in front of him.

"Good morning my darling," he opened his arms for her, swinging her down to perch on his knee. Without a trace of subtlety, Scarlett buried her head against his neck, breathing in the subtle combination of horseflesh and cigars she had long since come to associate with Rhett. At that time, it was intermingling with the heady scent of coffee, later that night; it would be tinged with brandy. At one time she had associated these smells with her father, but now they were for her husband alone. Scarlett sat back then, knowing she had been taking in his scent for too long now, not having any idea that as she had buried her nose in his neck, he had been doing the same in her hair.

"You're up and about early this morning," Rhett tucked her hair behind her ear and sat her more securely on his lap. "I wasn't aware you knew this time of the morning existed."

"We haven't gone out the last several nights. I've no need to sleep late if I've not been out till all hours."

"Personally, I find staying in a much more enjoyable way to pass an evening," Rhett grinned roguishly at her, laughing as she blushed deeply at the reference to their activities of the night before.

"I don't want to interrupt your morning routine," Scarlett told him; curious to see what her husband usually did while she slept. "I'm quite happy to sit here while you read the paper."

"Would you like a section of the paper?" Rhett asked mockingly. "I'm done with the front headlines, perhaps you'd be interested in it?"

"Yes thank you," Scarlett replied, immediately affronted by Rhett's assumption that she should have no interest in keeping up to date with current affairs. Of course she didn't care at all, had never picked up a newspaper in her life and didn't care to begin now, but she was indignant in the face of her husbands mocking and willing to peruse a paper if it meant showing him up.

Smirking, Rhett obligingly handed over the front several sheets of the paper.

"It's almost a fortnight old unfortunately, it takes some time for our news to trickle over to France."

"I'm sure I won't mind," Scarlett responded primly, handing Rhett the cup of coffee she had fixed him and turned to make one for herself. Under her husband's amused gaze, she made herself comfortable in his lap and folded the newspaper for her comfort. For several minutes she pretended to pursue the tiny black inked words printed upon the page, moving her eyes convincingly back and forth, taking nothing in.

"And what is your opinion on the secession of Kentucky, my dear?" Rhett asked some minutes later.

"I'd rather finish the article before forming an opinion," Scarlett told him, cursing herself as she realized that she would now have to read the article for herself, lest she look like a fool several minutes for now.

"Of course, my apologies," Rhett inclined his head sardonically, causing Scarlett's blood pressure to increase. With renewed enthusiasm, she set about reading the article.

Several minutes later she was finished and more confused than she had been before she had begun.

"A problem, Scarlett?"

"I'm...confused," she didn't like to admit as such, but she also wanted answers and knew that Rhett would be able to provide them. Oh, but there was a reason she'd never read a newspaper before!

"About?"

"Kentucky. How can it be both a Yankee and Confederate state?"

"Ah," Rhett plucked the newspaper from her hands and smoothed her creased brow with a single finger. "I can see how, not knowing the back story, such a thing might be confusing. You see..."

Scarlett listened with rapt attention as Rhett explained the discord within the state of Kentucky and by the end of his commentary, not only understood the situation (or so she thought) but also had a decided opinion on the matter.

"That's awful!" She exclaimed, hand pressed to her breast. "I can't imagine my neighbors being supporters of the Yankees! Or even members of my own family fighting on different sides of the war. Rhett, someone ought to do something!"

"People are doing something Scarlett, it's issues such as these that are the reason we're at war at all."

"I thought we'd have licked the Yankees by now," Scarlett's brow puckered again. "Everybody at home said we would have. Except you."

"Doubting the word of your husband, fie Mrs. Butler!" Rhett teased gently. "I never anticipated the war ending as quickly as your father, or any of the other men of Clayton County did. No, this war will drag on for years and the end won't be what they're hoping for either."

"Rhett you're not suggesting we'll get beaten are you?"

"I'm not suggesting it my pet, I'm outright saying it. The Confederacy is going to get licked eventually, whether tomorrow or ten years from now the result will be the same."

The very idea was impossible, disloyal, it went against everything she had been taught to believe in, but still... she remembered the points Rhett had made on the day they had met, the day of the barbecue at Twelve Oaks. What he had said then made sense, and it still made sense now.

"Rhett, it's so sad!" She exclaimed, jumping to her feet to pace in front of him, quite unable to take the news that the world she had grown up in was sure to crumble down around her feet sitting down. "What's to be done?"

"Nothing my dear, except to make a pretty buck from it."

"A buck? Rhett what are you talking about?"

"Blockade running my dear, I'm going in to the blockade running business," seeing she had no idea what he was talking about he continued. "What you won't realize Scarlett, being so far from home, is that the South is starving for imported goods. The Yankees have choked the harbors and nothing is getting through, officially at any rate. As a blockade runner, I'd buy goods from England, or Paris or even New York and then run them, _sub rosa_ of course, into Charleston or Wilmington, where I'd sell them off, at a handsome profit of course."

"Rhett that sounds awfully dangerous," Scarlett's eyes were wide with wonder at the thought of such thrilling activities.

"Not so very dangerous, my pet. You'd be surprised at how far a little gold goes to bribing even the most loyal of officials. I've been doing my research while we've been here, and buying goods ready for shipment. As soon as I get my clearance from the Confederacy, I'm to begin."

"Will it be worth it Rhett?" Scarlett asked, still unconvinced that such a venture was without risk.

"I'm sure I'll clear a million, should the war last as long as I anticipate."

A million! Scarlett felt faint at the thought of such a sum.

Rhett laughed at her silence.

"I should have led with that my dear, for I knew that the idea of such riches would appeal to you! Besides, once the blockade becomes too dangerous, I shall sell out and collect another fortune from some foolish Englishman who thinks he can slip through. I've other ventures current also."

"Like what?"

"Cotton," Rhett grinned. "Right after Fort Sumter fell and before the blockade was established, I bought up several thousand bales of cotton at dirt-cheap prices and ran them to England, where they remain, warehoused in Liverpool. I've never sold them. I'm holding them until the English mills are desperate enough for cotton that they'll give me any price I ask. I wouldn't be surprised if I got a dollar a pound."

"A dollar a pound!" Scarlett exclaimed. "You'll get a dollar a pound when elephants roost in trees!"

"I believe I'll get it," Rhett squeezed her about the waist. "We're going to be very rich people when this war is over Scarlett. There's money in empire wrecking and that's what this is, the destruction of the empire of the South. It's inevitable and I intend to take full advantage of the situation created by the collapse. We'll make our fortune out of the wreckage."

"That feels... awfully mercenary Rhett."

"Mercenary my dear, or far sighted? Any loyal Confederate who had a thousand dollars cash this year could have done what I did, but how few were farsighted enough to take advantage of their opportunities?"

Scarlett paused, considering this. If Tara, or any of the other plantations she had grown up around, couldn't sell their cotton, how would they survive? And... should the worst happen, should the South lose, what would that mean for her family and friends?

"What fools!" Scarlett exclaimed. "Why, they're so near-sighted that they can't see what's right in front of them! So loyally blind to the Confederacy that they won't make any other plans. Whatever will happen to them?"

"Who knows?" Rhett shrugged uncaringly. "At the worst, they'll lose their precious plantations and their homes and businesses and they'll end up as paupers. Desperately poor, but always genteel, too damn nice to do anything except starve."

Scarlett's eyes were wide at that, her mouth hanging open and Rhett immediately realized he'd gone too far. Caught up in the discussion, he'd allowed the bitterness he'd long felt to show and he'd scared her. The South had chewed him up and spit him out years ago, but to Scarlett, these were still her people, her kin and as much as she was now realizing their faults, she wasn't ready to hear of their destruction.

"Forgive me," Rhett murmured, nuzzling her neck soothingly. "I will, of course, do everything I can to ensure your family are exempt from such sufferings."

Scarlett only nodded in reply, her mind absorbed with images of Tara burnt to the ground, her family as paupers. Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back ferociously. She couldn't think about it now, she'd think about it another day.

"I'm bored of such talk," she declared in steely tones. "What should we do today?"

Rhett was not fooled by her declaration, though he was undeniably proud of her gumption.

"Well my dear, I had thought to go shopping."

"Shopping?" Scarlett laughed. "Rhett my dressing room shall burst if you buy me any more clothes!"

"Not for you my greedy wife, for me," Rhett pinched her side teasingly. "I've spent all my time at the seamstresses of Paris and none at the tailors."

"Oh," Scarlett sighed. She had been hoping that they might spend the day together. "Well I suppose I might as well return Silvie Bart's call while you're out."

"I was thinking you might like to accompany me."

"To a tailors? Could I?" Scarlett had never heard such a thing.

"I don't see why not. I've accompanied you to the seamstress," Rhett's fingers gently trailed the line of her spine. "Besides, without your advice I might come out with an orange waistcoat and a yellow evening jacket."

"Rhett, do be serious," Scarlett laughed. "You have wonderful taste in clothing, as you well know. It's almost strange, _I've_ never met a man who had such discerning standards of apparel."

"I shall pretend you meant that as a compliment dear one, and take it as such," Rhett laughed again. "Come Scarlett, go and dress. If you're a good girl I'll take you to lunch afterwards."

* * *

The tailor was unlike anything Scarlett had ever experienced before. Installed on a low settee and provided with a charming tea service from the tailor's assistant, Rhett promenaded item after item before her, buying recklessly at her discretion. Some hours later, they were ensconced in their favorite bistro, enjoying a hearty lunch in front of a roaring fireplace.

"I do believe you blushed the entire time we were there," Rhett laughed, as Scarlett described her embarrassment at being the only woman in the decidedly masculine shop.

"Did you see the looks the gentlemen who came in gave me?" Scarlett cried. "They were all perfectly charming of course, but..."

"Enamored with you my dear, I'd swear by it," Rhett lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss there. "And madly jealous, for there own wives couldn't care enough about them to accompany them to the tailors."

"Rhett you think everybody is jealous of us."

"And so they should be!" He cried.

Scarlett laughed at his silliness. Rhett certainly knew how to play and always swept her along with him. But he never played like a boy; he was a man and no matter what he did, she could never forget it. She could not look down on him from the heights of womanly superiority, smiling as women have always smiled at the antics of men who are boys at heart. Sometimes, this annoyed her a little. It would be pleasant to occasionally, just occasionally, feel superior to Rhett. All the other men she could dismiss as children; her father, the Tarleton twins with their love of teasing and their elaborate practical jokes, the hairy little Fontaines with their childish rages. But Rhett eluded her understanding and her control, for he was an adult, and there was no element of boyishness about him.

He made her feel like an adult in a way nobody else in her life ever had. Consulting her, treating her with respect and schooling her understanding. Occasionally, she would think back to the conversation she had overheard him having with his mother in Charleston, before they had left for Paris, and wondered if this was his way of guiding her into a woman he would be proud to call his wife. If so, it seemed like a rather wonderful way for him to go about it.

"Rhett," she asked later, as their meals were cleared and coffee was presented. "What shall I do while you're erh... running the blockades?"

"An excellent question my pet," Rhett's dark eyes assessed her over the rim of his coffee cup. "One that I have no real answer for. You have several options. You may stay in Paris and I shall make my way here whenever possible to visit with you. You may go home to Tara, or even to Atlanta or Charleston and I shall see you when I am in port. Or, my information tells me that the best place to base ones self out of is Nassau. I intend to instill myself there, as the base of my operations. Should you wish to, you may come with me there."

"Oh yes please," Scarlett said immediately.

"Give the matter some thought, my dear," Rhett advised. "Nassau is no Paris, not even Atlanta. It's a rough place that I wouldn't recommend to most gently bred ladies. You being the exception, of course. Folks there aren't the gently bred people you're used to, Scarlett. You'll be quite safe, I will see to it, but your sensibilities might be offended by the kind of people you're likely to encounter there."

"Sensibilities, fiddle dee dee!" Scarlett scoffed. "I should rather be with you Rhett."

His eyes softened, in a way that Scarlett had come to expect when she made such statements. The liquid warmth never failed to make her giddy. Had she been capable of more introspection, she might have realized what that softening of those often steely orbs meant, but, Scarlett being Scarlett, she merely brushed it off as her having said something that her husband found pleasing.

In truth, Rhett found such statements far more than pleasing. He had come to live for them, anticipate them never and delight whenever one was unthinkingly offered. He remembered each one, word for word and, late at night, when his wife was dozing peacefully in his arms, would pull each from his memory for closer examination. Rhett had long since come to terms with the fact that he loved his wife, loved her passionately, in a way that was almost embarrassing for a man who had remained aloof of the world for as long as he had. He had married Scarlett in the same way he did everything else in his life, recklessly. He had met her, found her an amusing commodity and made her his. Love, he had never anticipated, love he had never desired, but love her he did and, on those occasions when she offered such unthinkingly pretty declarations, he could rather believe that she was on her way to falling in love with him too.

"Very well my dear," Rhett lent across the table to press a tender kiss to the inside of her wrist. "To Nassau we are to go."

* * *

_Thank you for your continued support. Your reviews never fail to make me smile. _


End file.
